


Prejudice

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bigotry, Drama, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-03
Updated: 2003-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan





	Prejudice

Depending on the weather, prisoner delivery for the Judge could be a welcome relief from life in the town or an uncomfortable ride through heat, snow or storms. On this occasion, it fell somewhere in between for the trip had started out pleasant enough with a mild breeze keeping the early spring heat to an almost tolerable level, but upon arriving at their destination, Dawson's Grove, Chris learned that the Judge had already left for the next town on his circuit, leaving a note for them to follow.

They set off before dawn but it still took another six hours in the slowly rising desert heat to reach Jackal's Bend. With relief, he and Nathan handed over the prisoner, finally able to get away from the man's fear-filled bitching as they dropped him off at the jail house to await trial. Someone else would escort the man to prison if that was to be his punishment, and neither Chris nor Nathan intended to stick around to see if he hanged instead.

They tracked down the Judge and exchanged both pleasantries and a few personal messages from Mary Travis and the Judge's grandson before taking their leave, for the Judge was part way through a trial and could spare no more time. However, with the sun now high in the sky, and knowing the horses needed a small respite, Chris decided against heading straight out. Instead, he took the fastest route to the town's only saloon with Nathan following on behind. Chris stepped up to the bar and ordered two beers, wanting to quench the last of his thirst with something other than water or whiskey.

"Don't serve his kind in here."

"I beg your pardon?" Chris frowned and leaned forward menacingly.

"Said I don't serve niggers here."

Chris reached over with lightening speed and grasped the barkeep's wrist in a strong grip. "You insulting my friend?"

Nathan placed a hand over the one of Chris's that was gripping the barkeep so painfully. "Don't need no trouble, Chris. Ain't got such a powerful thirst I'm willing to cause a fight over it."

Chris looked sideways into the deep brown eyes and saw the depths of Nathan's determination to stay clear of trouble, and though he hated to do it, he let go of the barkeep's wrist and stepped back. The barkeep wilted under Chris's glare, scurrying off with his painful wrist supported by the other hand but Chris did not follow him. However, his words had quenched Chris's thirst for beer in a less than satisfying way for he did not intend to stay where his friend was not wanted.

"Let's get out of this hell hole." He turned on his heel and stormed out, bristling deadly anger that made all those of good sense move out of his path. If he had not registered the determined glint in Nathan's eyes to pull back from that fight, then Chris would have happily planted his fist in the surly barkeep's face. Now his body seemed wired, but without a vent for the anger filling him.

After saddling up, Chris stared out across the barren, rocky terrain in the direction of where the last town lay, grimacing as he watched the land wavering as waves of heat rose from the hot, stony ground. They had started across this land in the coolness of the pre-dawn but Chris had no inclination to hang around in the town for another few hours waiting for the sun to pass its zenith. He looked to the southeast where the heat-wavering land looked no different, recalling the route they had taken from the small town they protected -- first mostly west, and then north.

"Way I figure it, if we head across country this way, then we'll reach the town in three days instead of the five it'll take to go back the way we came."

"Don't know, Chris. Heard rumors people out that way don't look too kindly on strangers, 'specially white folk."

"Indians?"

"Negroes... Emancipated slaves who came west when Sherman's army took Georgia... but they ain't forgotten nor forgiven their white slavers."

"Hell, Nathan, I ain't never owned a man... and I ain't about to be scared off by any man either... white or black."

He knew his anger from the saloon was fueling his decision but he did not care. He dug his heels in and set his horse in motion, heading out towards the territory that Nathan had been wary of riding into. Chris had heard of problems in that area but he figured that if he and Nathan made no trouble for the people there then they would have no cause to make trouble for him... and if they wanted a fight then he'd happily oblige.

The hot weather did not last and by late afternoon, Chris and Nathan were pulling their coats tightly around their bodies as the thunderheads coming up behind them finally caught up, soaking them both to the skin with warm rain. Ahead, they saw the beckoning lights of a small town and hastened towards them, riding straight for the livery. As Chris handed over the reins, he detected a certain amount of belligerence from the large, dark-skinned man who took them from him but he was far too wet and tired to care for the reason. Instead, he and Nathan made a dash across the mud and waterlogged main street to where lights were flickering at one of the shantytown's few wood-built buildings: the saloon.

****

Nathan pushed through the batwing doors and pulled off his hat, staring around at a sight he had long forgotten, that of a room crowded with dark-skinned faces like his own. There was a banjo playing and men laughing loudly as they drank while dark-skinned working girls moved among the men offering seductive smiles and far more -- for a price. Chris stepped in behind Nathan and pushed his hat back off his face to hang by the latigo strap... and the room fell silent. Every eye turned towards the door but Nathan knew that the man who had come to stand beside him had gained their attention, rather than him. Some of those stares held curiosity but many more held hostility.

Ignoring the sudden drop in temperature within the saloon, Chris threaded his way to the bar with Nathan following on behind. Soft whispers behind hands held contempt but Nathan could not help but admire the lithe beauty of the man who strode ahead of him. Among other white men, Chris looked handsome but here, with his white skin contrasting so strongly with the people surrounding them, he looked like a golden-haired angel; so pale and ethereal.

"Whiskey," Chris said in a soft voice as he leaned on the bar top, but the barkeep remained motionless, staring at him with disdain.

He wiped his hands on a cloth and turned to Nathan. "He with you ?" he said, indicating towards Chris with a slight flick of his head.

Nathan's eyes widened as a sense of outrage coiled in his belly, only now understanding how Chris must have felt back at Jackal's Bend when the white barkeep refused to serve him a drink based on the color of his skin. Over the years, he had faced racist slurs so many times they had lost some of their sting, but this was different. For the first time, he was the one gaining acceptance without a murmur of disapproval while others insulted his white-skinned companion.

"Man's my friend... an' if you got a problem with that then you just tell me so to my face."

The large black barkeep grinned with a touch of menace. "Just want to make sure he's not planning on causing trouble."

"I ain't looking for trouble, mister... just a whiskey."

The man ignored Chris, looking at Nathan pointedly. "You vouching for this here pretty white boy?"

Nathan bristled with anger but then he felt a calming hand on his arm. Swallowing the pride that hurt on Chris's behalf, Nathan nodded. As the barkeep poured two whiskeys and set them before Nathan, the murmurs started again as each man went about his business but the former lighthearted atmosphere had gone. A woman snaked up by Nathan's side but when he turned to smile at her, she spat on the ground by his feet and walked off, her disapproval of his riding companion obvious.

They stayed for one more drink and then left, sensing the icy atmosphere thaw as soon as Chris stepped outside. The rain had eased a little as they made their way across to the only other wooden-framed building other than the saloon and livery; a boarding house. Nathan stepped up to the desk and smiled at the woman who came out from the kitchen beyond. She smiled back brightly, her dark eyes traveling over his body in open appreciation.

"Need two rooms for one night."

"That'll be two dollars apiece... an' extra for--" Her heated eyes sought out his companion, and turned to ice as she spotted Chris standing behind Nathan's large frame. Her smile turned to a snarl.

"Just remembered... we ain't got no rooms left."

"Sign says you have rooms... and you just--"

"Not for no white man."

"Now hold on there, missus. Just 'cause his skin ain't black don't mean--"

"Nathan. I'll sleep out tonight. Meet you on the east ridge at sunrise."

"No, Chris. If you ain't staying then neither am I." Despite feeling no civility at all towards the woman, Nathan gave a respectful parting and turned, following Chris to the door.

As Chris opened the door, they heard the first crack of lightning followed seconds later by a rumble of thunder; the lull in the storm had passed and the rain was now coming down in a torrent that soaked through their already sodden clothes immediately.

"Wait up." Nathan looked back at the rotund woman as she placed her hands on her hips in exasperation. "I'll rent you a room... an' he can sleep on your floor."

"Chris?"

"Hell, Nathan... at least the floor'll be dry."

****

Nathan watched Chris shivering as they began to strip off their drenched clothing, wringing each item before hanging it over the back of the room's only chair. The boarding house keeper had set a small fire going in the grate and they pushed the chair close in the hope the heat would dry their clothing by morning.

He glanced around the room. It was obvious to him that the bed served a purpose other than just accommodating a single traveler for the night, as it was larger than most boarding house beds. No doubt, the local working girls brought clients to the boarding house too.

By now they had both stripped down to damp undergarments and there they stopped, looking at each other. Nathan read unaccustomed embarrassment in the soft green eyes, knowing that for Chris, it seemed disrespectful to undress further even if only in male company. Nathan grinned as he started to unbutton his top.

"Not like I ain't seen it all before, Chris."

Despite his words, Nathan could not resist watching covertly as Chris stripped off his sodden undergarments, mesmerized by the pale flesh slowly revealed. Upon drawing off the bottoms, Nathan sucked in a quiet but deep breath as Chris revealed even paler ass cheeks that seemed to Nathan to be as white as a fresh fallen snow. He raised his hand as Chris leaned over to spread out the garment to dry closest to the fire, stirred by the sight of his dark flesh contrasted against the snow-white ass. Nathan licked his lower lip, wondering if the flesh would be as cool to the touch as it looked to the eye, and he almost groaned aloud as he imagined his hard, dark-skinned shaft sinking between the pale globes.

Nathan bunched the covers up over his waist to hide the evidence of his straying thoughts as Chris turned. For a long moment, he hesitated as Chris spread out blankets on the floor, but his compassion for a friend won out over his fear of Chris catching him in this state of arousal, especially as only one body present could have caused his condition.

"Room to share in the bed... if you want to."

Chris stared at the bed, and then at the hard floor. Nathan knew Chris had spent his early years busting broncos, and though uncomplaining about sleeping on the hard ground, he knew it caused more than a little stiffness in the older man's back and legs. He gained the slightest nod of agreement and watched as Chris extinguished the lamplight before clambering beneath the covers in the large bed.

Chris fell asleep quickly, exhausted first by the long journey in the rising heat of the desert and then from riding through the storm but Nathan lay awake for a long time, thinking about the man in his bed. He had known Chris for almost three years now, recalling the day when they had first met, and how Chris and Vin had saved him from a hanging. Since then they had shared good times and bad, fought side by side against marauders and bandits and saved each other's life several times over. They had shared meals and whiskey, and even shared insights into the world of pain that had engulfed them both during their lives, finding comradeship and perhaps even some form of love in the bond formed between them, and between five other men who had ridden into their lives that day.

He thought of Rain, the Seminole woman he loved but was too afraid to marry, feeling a little sadness that he had not been able to give his whole heart to her. He did love her, and he could think of no other woman he would care to spend his life with but the truth was, he had seen too many of his kin torn apart at the whims of others to want to place his whole heart in her hands. Until recently, he had believed the slave owner of the plantation where he was born had sold him and his father away from his mother, tearing apart their family. Although he knew now that she had committed suicide rather than bear the child of the white overseer, he had only to think of the other slaves around him, who had lived in apprehension of making a life with another, to understand his own fear. How many times had he watched a young couple marry only to see the man go to the auction block a short while later leaving the girl heavy with child and alone? Or worse, seen the young woman taken to the Big House and used as a whore for their white master, with no one daring to guess the heritage of any child she bore until they had seen the color of its skin.

He knew it was different with Rain. He knew that both of them were free, but the weight of the past clung heavily to his heart and mind. Perhaps if he had stayed at the Seminole Village rather than follow the others back to the town then he might have gotten over that fear and taken Rain for his wife many months ago. Instead, he had found friendship within the small band of men that had protected Rain and her people that day, a friendship that extended beyond the boundaries of flesh and bone to the very heart and soul of a man.

Nathan had no clue as to when the fraternal love of a brother-in-arms had turned to desire but, now, every time he saw Chris his mouth would go dry and his heart rate speed up. As a healer, he knew that if he looked in a mirror then he would see other signs of his desire for Chris; dilation of his eyes and a flush rising in his skin, so he could only be grateful that his deep brown eyes and dark skin concealed the physical manifestation of his hunger from the other man. However, Nathan knew there was far more to his desire than simple lust, despite the tightness at his groin whenever he looked upon the golden-haired, green-eyed gunfighter.

For someone who spoke so little, Chris conveyed so much, mostly in a look or a smile, or in the easy movement of his lean frame and those agile fingers. A look in his eye and the touch of his hand could take away Nathan's pain -- and his breath -- easing away the loneliness and leaving him feeling alive, needed... and loved in return.

But how deep did Chris's feelings go for him? Did Chris feel the heat of passion whenever their eyes met or their hands touched? Or was this love just the affection of brothers-in-arms on his part too? Certainly, there had been some change in the way Chris looked back at him these days, as if he had read Nathan's heart and thoughts.

Nathan wished he had the courage to find out if Chris's feelings for him transcended the barrier of civilization set between men, no matter the color of their skin. He knew from brutal experience that other white men felt no compelling fear of God's wrath for their sodomy of a male slave, but he also knew from his experience with other males that it did not have to be that way. It did not have to be an act of brutality between men. He knew that every form of love could bring joy, and so could the expression of that love, be it between man and woman, or between man and man.

Nathan had experienced both in his time, recalling the pleasure of Vin's strong body against his as they sought mutual satisfaction, but Vin was not truly a white man despite his piercing blue eyes, with the savage in him calling to Nathan. Beneath the buckskin and rough cloth, his soft, warm skin betrayed his part Indian heritage.

Though he had found great passion with Vin, and with Rain, he could not deny that his heart also beat for Chris Larabee. As his body responded to the memory of both Vin's hard frame and Rain's soft curves, Nathan fervently wished that he could quench his rising passion within the arms of the friend who lay beside him, just as he would have done on the plantation in his you th. Staring up at the ceiling, he could not help but be aware of the warm body lying so close to his own and he wished that he had the courage to roll over and stake his claim upon the pale flesh.

Eventually the exhaustion of the day caught up with him too... and he slept.

Nathan woke to the heat of a body pressing along the length of his back, and the lightest of touches across a nipple sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Still half-asleep, he pressed back against the warm body, moaning softly as calloused fingers played down his chest, rippling over his belly to stroke down the length of his burgeoning erection. More flashes of pleasure followed as those knowing fingers skimmed from root to tip, encircling his shaft with the wider and welcome span of a man's hand. He looked down, caught by the strong pale fingers wrapped around his thick, blood filled shaft and he pressed back against the evidence of his bed companion's arousal. His mind sent him images of the pale shaft now flushed with heat and blood, nestled between the curves of his ass cheeks, and he moaned loudly in wanton desire for completion. The hand froze. Nathan grabbed at the wrist as Chris snatched his hand away, drawing those fingers back against his hard flesh.

"You want this?" Chris whispered softly, incredulously, and Nathan moaned his eager response, arching his back to press back against Chris even as he thrust inside the circle of Chris's firmly gripping hand.

"I want it."

The pale fingers moved along the length of his shaft, pausing at the head while the agile thumb smeared the slippery beads of Nathan's arousal to ease the slide of that knowing hand back to the root. Each pumping motion sent ripples of desire racing through him, igniting a fire deep inside and setting his blood aflame. He could feel the slide of Chris's hard shaft along the valley between his ass cheeks, gliding over the strongly muscled entrance to his body. He gasped, almost wishing he had the strength to pull away and let the hard shaft plunder his body but the impending ecstasy held sway over him, driving him to completion as he spilled his seed over the busy hand. He felt Chris move harder against him, and then heard a harsh sob as the heat of Chris's release slicked between them.

"My sweet Lord!"

Nathan looked across to the open doorway in shock, too wrapped up in desire to have noticed the woman's uninvited entrance before. Suddenly, she was standing above them, calling Chris all manner of names as the water jug in her hand came smashing down upon him over and over, spilling its clean, warmed water over them as he tried to scrabble free from Nathan's body and bed. Nathan grabbed her wrist, tightening enough to force her to let go of the jug but her loud curses had brought others running. Dark-skinned hands dragged Nathan from the bed and he fought hard against them, desperate to reach the curled up form of Chris Larabee as fists and feet rained down upon his friend.

The sharp retort of a single gunshot ended the melee, and one by one, the men moved away from Chris's body. Nathan tried to reach him but they held him back too, and he could only watch in fear as they grabbed Chris beneath the armpits and hauled him away -- naked and bloodied.

They dragged Chris into the street below heading towards the livery, dragging Nathan on behind, and Nathan prayed softly that all they meant was to see them both on their way, banishing them from their town. However, Nathan's blood ran cold as a man appeared at the entrance to the high hayloft with a rope and dropped one end over the protruding winch beam used to haul up hay, while he secured the other end. A noose was quickly fashioned on the lower end and Nathan could only watch in mute horror as two men lifted Chris onto the back of an open wagon. They tied his hands tightly behind his back, and then placed the noose around his neck.

Screams and yells of 'hang him' filled the street, breaking Nathan free from his frozen shock, and he began to fight back and yell in return. Two shots were fired, and the crowd's noise fell to a murmur as the local sheriff stepped onto the muddy main street.

"What's going on here?"

"Found this white boy trying to rape one of our own--"

"That ain't true," shouted Nathan, and he saw the sheriff turn a questioning eye towards him. "He ain't no rapist."

The sheriff looked from Nathan to Chris Larabee, with his eyes seeing their state of undress and forming his own misguided opinion. A woman's voice lifted from the crowd.

"He's a poor nigger boy lying to save his master. I sawed him..." The landlady pointed towards Chris, "I sawed him rubbing and a groaning in this boy's bed, pressing up behind him, all naked and... My sweet Lord, I says."

The sheriff walked over to Nathan, nodding sagely as if he had seen this many times before. "Emancipation is ours... and you don't have to let one of them white devils take their pleasure from you no more. You's a free man now, and no man can own you no more." He turned back to the lynch mob, raising his voice. "White men have got to learn that we ain't their slaves no more." He looked straight at Chris. "Hang him."

"No!" Nathan shoved hard against the men holding him as the man holding the horses' reins started to urge them forward.

Another shot filled the air, and this time the townsfolk fell silent as a richly dressed, dark-skinned man rode up to the wagon. The man reached out and touched Chris's sun-bleached blond hair, rubbing it between his fingers before tilting up Chris's chin and staring into his battered face. It sickened Nathan to see the man order one of the guards to force open Chris's mouth. This was something he had not witnessed in many years, recalling all too well the number of times he had meekly followed his master around the auction block to inspect the slaves waiting to be bought.

"How much for the white boy?"

"Ain't selling him, Mr. Silas. We's a hanging him for--"

"Can recall being told by a man who thought he could be my master... a dead slave can't serve no good to nobody."

"He ain't a slave," Nathan yelled out but a backhanded slap snapped his head sideways and he felt a trickle of blood run down his chin from his split lip.

"Any man can be bought or sold." His eyes drifted down Chris's strong, lean body. "An' I'm in the mood for burying."

"Well... Mizz Coral's boarding room is all bust up an' we got a lot of angry people here who want to see justice."

"This ain't justi--" Nathan groaned as a fist drove into his stomach, expelling all the air.

"Name your price, sheriff."

"Five hunerd dollars."

"Four," Silas responded quickly.

"Four seventy-five."

"Four fifty."

The sheriff chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, looking from Silas to his battered looking prisoner. "We got us a deal, Mr. Silas."

Silas nodded over his shoulder and Nathan could only watch as they removed the rope from around Chris's neck. Several men grabbed Chris's arms and manhandled him to the back of a covered wagon, and Nathan could only look on helplessly as the wagon drew away, taking Chris from him, and uncertain whether to be grateful or fearful that Silas had interceded before the townsfolk could hang Chris.

He's alive for now, Nathan thought, and that gave him some hope of seeing Chris again some day soon -- and still alive.

****

The jostling of the wagon brought Chris back to semi-awareness once more, and he looked around the interior in a daze, wondering if this had all been a dream that had turned into a nightmare. His head and back were throbbing from the blows from the water jug, and everywhere else just plain hurt too much, from where fists and boots had landed on him.

Part of the nightmare returned and he frowned at the crazy idea that he had just been sold into slavery. It had to be some nightmare conjured up from hearing Nathan's past tales of his you th coupled with the feel of Nathan's body pressed against his, and yet it had seemed so vivid. He recalled being manhandled out of the Boarding House, buck-naked and with every nerve ending still singing from the pleasure he had found with Nathan turning swiftly to pain. Someone had spat into his face and another had punched him hard in the stomach as he tried to resist. He had barely been aware of the noose placed around his neck, only stirring when he heard Nathan's impassioned cries.

The world had turned deadly silent and Chris had been certain that they were all waiting with baited breath for the horses to pull the wagon from beneath his feet, sending him to the end of that short rope. He knew his death would not be quick like a gallows hanging. There would have been no snap of his neck as he reached the end of the drop, only a slow choking as the noose tightened, cutting off his air as he danced vainly on the end of the rope but he refused to beg for his life.

Instead, someone had touched his hair almost reverently, and then tilted up his face until jet black eyes within the darkest skin he had ever seen had filled his vision.

Mr. Silas?

The wagon halted, and Chris winced as one of Silas's men pulled open the back cover.

"Bring him out. I want to see what I spent over four hundred dollars on."

Chris choked back a sob of pain as hands dragged him into the waning sunlight. He recollected that it had been dawn when they tore him from Nathan's bed, and now it was almost nightfall. Had they been traveling for so long? They manhandled him several feet away from the wagon and then moved away, leaving him swaying on his own. His legs threatened to fold beneath him but he forced every ounce of what little strength remained into holding himself upright.

Chris gazed through narrowed eyes as a man, easily the size of Nathan Jackson, stepped towards him. The man circled him slowly, reaching out to skim fingers across his bruised and battered skin. Chris clenched his ass muscles as the hand rested lightly upon one curve, still too dazed to understand the reason for the man's impropriety towards him.

A different voice spoke. "Them welts 'n' bruises gonna take time to heal."

"Will they scar?"

"No, Sir. Just gonna get ugly for a time 'n' then they'll be gone."

"So pale," the man spoke softly, almost a whisper, as his hand kneaded the flesh of Chris's ass. "Never seen such white flesh before... and so firm. Beautiful... just beautiful."

"Well, that part of any man don't see much of the sun."

The man called Silas seemed to deliberate on those words, with his dark eyes narrowing to slits as he stroked Chris's ass one more time and then he tilted Chris's head back to brush one finger down Chris's sun-browned face.

"If the sun turns his skin to brown," he mused, "then lack of sun should turn it back to white."

"Yes, Sir. My mast... my former master, well, he was always a moaning at his daughters to stay out of the sun 'case they be mistaken for us field hands." Chris saw the man grinning only a few feet from him. "An' them girls was as white as fresh grown cotton."

Silas looked intrigued, and then he grinned. "See to his injuries and then put him back in the wagon... and make sure he stays in there. I paid four hundred and fifty dollars for this white boy... and I aim to keep him that way from now on."

Chris snapped up his head in shock, now acutely aware that his nightmare was reality, and that he had been sold into some form of slavery. However, judging by the remarks and intimate touches, he had a feeling that he would not be working out in the fields, or breaking rocks from dawn to dusk as he had in the prison outside Jericho.

Only one thought sustained him as Silas's men set to cleaning him up; Nathan knew who had taken him so it was only a matter of time before he came after him to set him free.

****

"It's for you own good, boy. I know how deep loyalties can run for a master. Took me years afore I could get up in the morning without the fear of a whipping 'cause I'd slept past dawn."

The sheriff leaned back in his chair and stared through the cell bars while Nathan pulled on the clothes brought to him from the boarding house. The man sighed deeply when Nathan merely shook his head in frustration. He had tried to explain to the sheriff, and anyone else who cared to come too close, that it had not been that way between him and Chris.

"All of you ain't no better than them white slavers."

The Sheriff jumped to his feet as if dealt the worst insult of his life. He crossed to the cell with his face screwed up in rage.

"Now just you be wary of who you start to calling names, boy. Them scars tracking your back ain't nothing to what I seen. Oh yes, most of them white masters treated us real good, but then, we's expensive property to them. Watched them sell my thirteen-year-old sister for six hunerd dollars 'cause they figured she'd be a good worker an' a good breeder... like her mama." He sneered. "Her new master weren't so particular about taking good care of his slaves. Beat them, whipped them... raped them. They laid her in her grave five year later when she died birthing her master's fourth bastard babe. An' he didn't care none for his blood running through them little 'uns... Sold them all the very next day so's he could buy hisself another girl to rape."

"We all got our stories... an' we all figured to being better than them that slaved us. But we ain't no better if we treat others the way they treated us."

"That white man got better'n he deserved. I'd a soon a seen him hanged for what he did to you.."

"You don't understand. He didn't do nothing I didn't want."

The sheriff shook his head in resignation. "Seen many a slave like you., son. Too many years doing as you told, serving any whim 'cause you afeared of being whipped or sold on to worse. Better the devil you know, I guess."

"Told you it weren't like that."

"A week or so from now... Well... you all be a thanking me for setting you free from him."

"A week!"

"Ain't no use hollering. If I let you go now you'd just ride on after him in some misguided notion you owed him something. Week from now he'll be long gone, an' nobody round these parts is gonna tell you where to find him so you might as well accept that now an' save yourself the worry. We freed you., an' the sooner you come to accept that, the sooner you can move on with you life."

Nathan smashed his hands against the bars as the sheriff walked away, leaving him alone in the jail house with just one hope... that the others would come searching for them, and that Vin would be able to pick up Chris's trail when they did.

****

Vin paused on the threshold of the saloon and let his eyes glance over the few people who had come here for Inez's chili beans and coffee breakfast. He had already wandered past the small restaurant at the boarding house, but he had felt no pull from either place, even though he was hungry. It did not take a clever man like Josiah to figure out why as it was always this way for him whenever Chris was out of town, be it at his shack or on some errand for the Judge. Simply put, he missed the man's company more than he cared to admit to anyone -- except maybe himself.

Chris had a way of speaking to his heart without ever saying a word. Just a look or the slightest touch held a rare depth of meaning, drawing him in from the edges of civilization to bathe in the glow of friendship. As much as he cared for the others, it was with Chris that he felt most comfortable and at peace, slowly revealing the hidden parts of his life in the sure knowledge that Chris would not judge him for past actions unduly. Vin had known several others like him -- young warriors in the Kiowa -- but this was the first time he had found that connection with a white man. Too often, white folk were shackled by their own prejudice and, hence, unwilling to accept possibilities outside of their parochial view of the world but Chris, for all his outwardly forbidding appearance, had a gentle and compassionate soul.

Vin slumped into a seat with his back to the wall and a good view of the entrance, unwilling to take stupid chances when Chris was not around to watch his back. His thoughts darkened as he considered the gentle spirit beneath the often-hard exterior, understanding how much of a burden it could be for someone who had made a name for himself as a gunfighter of some renown. Staying in one place for so long had only made his name more known, increasing the number of hotheaded youths looking to prove themselves against him with a gun. Vin smiled wryly at that thought, for Chris was not near as old as most believed. Grief and the long years searching for justice for his murdered wife and child had prematurely aged him, along with the wind weathering his features as he moved from town to town in search of that justice. However, since settling in this town some of the hard years had dropped away from his face, only returning during those bad times when first Fowler and then Ella Gaines had come back into his life, spreading their poison. For the rest of the time, Vin could see the you th and vitality still clinging to his lean, handsome face, though most especially when he smiled, and these days, Chris smiled a lot more.

Recalling the brilliance of a Larabee smile brought Vin's lips curling in pleasure. The man was a paradox, able to scare people off with a flash of his green eyes and a glare, and then draw them back in with a smile. Though Vin was immune to the glare, he could not withstand the power of a Larabee smile when aimed in his direction.

He expelled a hiss of annoyance at his own neediness. He had never wanted or needed anyone before, happy enough to take pleasure when available and then move on. Male, female... gender had never mattered to him, and neither had skin color, although he had shied away from making any moves on a white man in the past. They had too many God-fearing laws that forbade one action or another on penalty of eternity in the fiery depths of Josiah's Hell. Still, it confused him that white men viewed the taking of a life with less abhorrence than taking sexual pleasure with another of the same gender. Even so, he might still have made an exception and approached Chris if the man had not once been happily married, and was not courting Mary Travis -- or so it seemed to his, admittedly, inexperienced eye.

Certainly, Mary seemed to believe Chris was courting her judging by the subtle territorial display when another woman dared to look in Chris's direction. Still, Vin had never seen them do more than walk arm-in-arm along the boardwalk... and even Buck had been seen escorting Mary in such a fashion from time to time. He exhaled again in annoyance, recognizing the attempt to keep alive his hopes of having Chris for his own one day but those kinds of crazy hopes would only lead to misery. It was far better to push such hopes out of his mind and concentrate on keeping Chris for a friend instead.

Movement just beyond the windows pulled his attention to the door and he gave a small, welcoming smile as Josiah pushed back the batwing door and moved towards Vin's table, leaving the door to swing noisily behind him. Josiah dropped his hat onto the tabletop and sighed deeply. A layer of dust already coated his tired face, clinging to good, honest sweat from where he had been working on the old church since dawn. If Vin had not been an early riser anyway, then the sound of Josiah's hammer would have brought him out of his slumber. Inez placed a coffee before him along with breakfast for both men.

"Need help with that roof today?" Vin mumbled around a mouthful of eggs and beans.

"Can always use a good man."

Vin swallowed his mouthful, his smile faltering as he wondered if Josiah would still believe him a good man if he had known of the carnal nature of the thoughts that had drifted through Vin only moments before. Yet, of all the priests and missionaries Vin had crossed paths with in his life, Josiah seemed the most open minded and the most willing to accept the customs of other races and cultures. It gave him a little hope that Josiah would not condemn him for wanting Chris Larabee for more than just a friend or brother. He scooped up another forkful.

"Penance is harder to make alone," Josiah mumbled as he sipped at the hot coffee, making Vin realize how much Josiah would have missed Nathan's company over this past week. The pair was often seen together working on the church or drinking in the saloon. Nathan was the only one who regularly turned up just to hear Josiah's Sunday sermons, though JD had started to accompany Casey to church with her Aunt Nettie in recent weeks. Josiah set down his fork and pulled out a piece of paper and Vin recognized one of the words written upon it: Larabee. He recalled the telegraph they had received two days ago but he wondered how it had fallen into Josiah's possession. Still that seemed unimportant compared to the content of that telegraph.

He preempted Josiah. "Judge sent word they left Jackal's Bend five days ago. Kind of expected them to come riding in before now."

Josiah's bright blue eyes caught and held Vin's as he played with the small piece of paper. "You worried about Chris and Nathan?"

Vin looked away in embarrassment, with a foolish smile forcing a curl to his lips. He set his fork down and shook his head, no longer feeling hungry. "Hell, Josiah, they're both grown men--"

"I'm worried. I sent a telegraph to Dawson's Grove yesterday evening. Got a reply this morning." Vin looked back and stared at the paper, now aware that this was not the same message sent by the Judge two days back. He waited anxiously on Josiah's next words. "They didn't ride back that way."

Vin frowned, picturing the land between Jackal's Bend, Dawson's Grove and the small town they protected. "If they decided to head back as the crow flies... then they should have got here in no more than three days. But maybe they stopped off at the Seminole village."

"Been a while since I shared a fire with Tastanagi."

Vin frowned at Josiah's words, and then realized that there was a hidden meaning within. "Was thinking of taking a ride out that way to check on that cannon, make sure they still got it well hidden."

Josiah grinned as he pushed away from the table, the rest of his breakfast forgotten. "I'll let Buck know we'll be riding out for a few days."

Vin watched the big man head out of the saloon, knowing Josiah would be waiting for him at the stable within the hour. He picked up his fork and polished off the last few mouthfuls of his breakfast with renewed enthusiasm, happy to be doing something at last.

****

During that first day, he had barely been able to stand unaided while Silas looked him over, using all of his waning strength to fight against the indignity of that brief examination. Remaining true to his order, Silas's right hand man had ensured Chris would not see even the smallest shaft of sunlight from that moment onward, keeping him fully trapped inside the thick canvas during the daylight hours. The heat had become unbearable during the middle part of the day, leaving him lying in a pool of sweat that only added to the discomfort and pain from the beating. Only after sunset would they bring him outside but they would not give him any clothing and neither would they leave him unattended or even look away as he performed the necessary bodily functions.

Silas had shown no interest in him since then, barely even glancing in his direction when Turner brought him out of the wagon well after sunset to eat but this night Chris sensed a change in the atmosphere around the camp. It seemed livelier and Chris wondered if they were coming to the end of their journey.

On Silas's order, Ezekiel Turner and another dragged Chris naked from the back of the wagon to stand beside the campfire, holding him up when his legs buckled beneath him. Silas stared at him with a look of disgust, his dark eyes traveling from the top of Chris's head to his bare feet.

Silas gave one forceful laugh. "An' you white folks call *me* colored."

Chris knew he looked a real mess by now with livid welts and bruises coloring his flesh in mottled purple, blue, green and red. One eye had swollen shut and his jaw ached though, thankfully, he felt no loose teeth. In some small way, the anger of the mob had saved him from a worse beating -- or even death -- for the press of others had deflected most of the blows as they fought to land a punch or kick on his vulnerable body. Still, he felt the dull ache on his back, ass and legs where many of the kicks had landed before they dragged him along the main street to be hanged.

"Said he was gonna look a lot worse 'afore he got any better," stated Turner

Silas nodded dismissively towards his right-hand man before turning his full attention back to Chris.

"When I first heard all that commotion in town, an' heard a white man was caught raping a black man, I figured on coming out to watch the hanging. Was expecting to see some pot-bellied, soft-living slaver all a quivering an' a begging for his miserable white skin. Instead..." Silas gave a long satisfied sigh. "Instead, there you was. Standing as tall an' as proud as you could be. No begging, no crawling or whimpering. No, siree."

Silas stepped forward and reached out to brush a finger along Chris's bruised cheek and jaw. His voice deepened as if in awe or reverence as he leaned in and whispered in Chris's ear.

"And all that pale flesh was a glowing against the dark-skinned hands that held you. Made you look like Olorun... the Sky Father conjured up by a Mambo."

Chris had little idea what Silas was talking about, though he recalled one philosophical conversation between Josiah and Nathan one evening in the saloon where Nathan had talked of a Mambo, a priestess of some strange religion who had held sway over the slaves on the plantation where he had been enslaved. JD had sat there wide-eyed as Nathan talked of strange rituals, while Ezra had hid his unease beneath a bored facade.

A small part of him felt obliged to thank the existence of this Olorun, for while he lived, Chris knew there was hope of escape or rescue. Another part hoped that this 'likeness' to Olorun would not involve him in some sacrificial rite such as those described by Nathan that day.

"We reach your new home tomorrow, an' then I plan on seeing if you can breathe life into these bones of mine." He grinned as if he had just cracked a joke but the meaning was lost on Chris. "Feed him then put him back in the wagon... then send a man on ahead to get the root cellar cleared out and ready for my latest... acquisition."

Silas turned and started to walk away.

"Don't bother on my account. I ain't planning on staying long."

No smile reached the dark eyes that bored into Chris when Silas turned back despite the curve of his lips. "Got a lot to learn 'bout being a slave, boy."

"I ain't a slave."

"First lesson... Slave... is you don't speak except to say yes or no, sir." Silas's eyes flicked to Turner. "Perhaps, Mr. Turner can teach you that lesson tonight... without scarring him so's I can see."

"My pleasure, sir."

Turner dragged Chris over towards the wagon and had him secured with his back to a wheel. He placed a wooden box beneath Chris's calves to raise his lower legs from the ground, and then two men held Chris securely at the knees and ankles. Turner brought out a thin strap and whacked it against the palm of his hand. With horror, Chris knew how Turner planned to carry out Silas's order before the first blow landed on the bottom of his feet. He flinched and whimpered as the pain tore up through his legs, trying to curl his feet over to avoid the blows that followed. He knew that his talking back to Silas had cost him any chance of escape that night for by the time Turner had finished with him, Chris knew he would not be able to walk for days.

****

The slowly moving wagon reached Silas's ranch before midday and Chris gained just a fleeting glimpse of sunlight as Silas's men carried him from the wagon and into the root cellar. They dropped him onto the rough bedding and walked away, locking the door behind them and leaving him alone in complete darkness.

The smell of old vegetables and flour permeated the air but at least it was cool inside rather than stifling, as it had been in the back of the wagon. The three-day journey had taken its toll upon him for his muscles had stiffened from both the lack of freedom and from the abuse meted out by the angry lynch mob back at the town. In addition, his feet throbbed painfully from the 'lesson' Turner had given so enthusiastically. Chris tried to rise, hoping to feel his way to the walls in the hope that he might be able to find a way out but he cried out as soon as his abused feet touched the floor. He waited until the pain subsided and then considered dropping to his hands and knees and crawling around. A bubble of laughter escaped him as he realized how impractical that would be for even if he did manage to find some overlooked escape route then he would not get far in broad daylight on his hands and knees.

"Vin will find me," he whispered into the darkness, knowing he had pinned many of his hopes on Vin before, while he suffered at the Warden's hands in Jericho, and Vin had found him then so he had to believe that Vin would find him again.

Chris lay back on the bed and drew the thin blanket over his rapidly cooling body, recalling the warmth of lying with Nathan only a few days before...

****

He had fooled around, a time or two, with Buck before meeting and falling in love with Sarah, for Buck had an almost insatiable sexual appetite -- and a liberal attitude -- uncaring where the pleasure came from as long as it was both good and mutual. Now his memories of those past encounters stirred within him, slowly drawing him back from the depths of sleep. He felt a man's soft, almost hairless flesh against his skin, warming him through to his rain-chilled bones and igniting the flames of passion. A soft, questioning thought wondered when Buck had crawled into his bed. Unable to resist, his arm slipped around the wide chest and his fingers danced over the well-formed pectoral to brush over a sensitive nipple.

A soft, sleepy moan of contentment sent a ripple of pleasure through him, and he let his hand wander down the smooth belly, through crisp pubic hair to the silken steel shaft arcing from the nest of tight curls. Another gentle sigh of pleasure urged him onwards and his fingers slowly encircled the thick shaft as curiosity got the better of him. His lover's pelvis arched upwards, his shaft thrusting between Chris's fingers... and his loud moan shocked Chris out of his semi-dreaming state, making him realize exactly what he was doing, and to whom. He froze, hoping he could pull back his hand before Nathan awoke completely. He hoped Nathan would believe this had all been a dream for, although he had seen the lust burning in the dark eyes, Chris knew there was a world of difference between feeling desire and acting upon it.

Chris did not need to hear the whole story to know that Nathan had been treated badly by white men in the past, instilling a fear of loss that had kept him from making Rain his wife. Yet, he had reached out in friendship to a small group of white men; he had reached out a hand of friendship to *him*. For this reason alone, Chris had never considered initiating anything with the ex-slave for fear of losing the man's respect and friendship.

Silently, Chris cursed his stupidity in accepting a place in Nathan's bed last night, but warm fingers clamped around his wrist as he tried to pull back, drawing his hand back to the hard flesh of Nathan's erection. Urgently, they coaxed his hand back around the shaft, but Chris needed to be certain that Nathan truly wanted this, wanted to be certain neither of them were still dreaming. He spoke softly, and grinned at Nathan's ardent response in both actions and words as they strove towards mutual satisfaction. Nathan's seed spilled over his busy hand even as his own spurted into the valley between the firm ass cheeks, easing the friction as the incredible sensations flowed over him... but their pleasure was short lived as a woman's voice cried out...

****

His thoughts returned to the present but the warm memory had served only to make him more keenly aware of the coldness of the cellar. He shivered, curling up into a ball to preserve body warmth, and he let his thoughts linger on Nathan a little longer.

Even though this had been their first -- and would be their only time -- Chris knew, instinctively, that they shared much in common, able to appreciate the bond of brothers-in-arms and find solace in mutual touch and satisfaction without demanding more of the other than they could give. He knew there could be no future for them beyond that stolen moment of shared passion for Nathan belonged with Rain and not him. She completed him, with the ragged edges of his soul matching hers to form a perfect union, if only Nathan could find the inner strength to reach out to her.

Silently, he wondered what had become of Nathan. None of the angry townsfolk had seemed inclined to punish his dark-skinned 'lover' for what had passed between them, giving Chris hope that they believed Nathan to be a victim and would eventually set him free. However, Chris had no hope of Nathan ever finding him alone, for as much as he admired the man's healing skills and gentle nature, Nathan was no tracker of men. Only Vin would be able to track the wagon over the hard-baked earth many days after its passing, following the trail long after the wind had blown away all surface traces.

"He *will* find me," he whispered again as a soft mantra as he let his thoughts settle on the quiet younger man who had soothed the ragged edges of his soul since their first meeting. He did not dare to dwell on how Vin might react should he learn what had caused the lynch mob to form in that town. Instead, he quietly hoped that the time Vin spent with the Kiowa and Comanche would have chased away some of the prejudices of the white man, or that the bond between them would be strong enough for Vin to discard his revulsion for the sake of their friendship.

Hours passed before Chris heard the key turning in the rusty lock, and he had to cover his eyes as light flooded into the dank room, casting an orange glow over the musty root cellar, but once his eyes had adjusted to the light, Chris took his first real look at his sparsely furnished surroundings.

They had emptied the room of any crates and barrels, and had placed the small bed with its straw-filled mattress against the furthest wall with an overturned crate serving as a bedside table. The blanket that he had wrapped around his cold body had seen better days and was almost threadbare in places but it was clean, if just a little musty from disuse. He could see no dark patches that would indicate the presence of other windows or doors but Chris knew from experience that these cellars often had a second secret opening sometimes leading into a small tunnel, built as an escape route should the ranch be attacked by marauding Indians or Comancheros in times past.

Chris watched as a man placed a meal of stew and bread onto the makeshift table without any cutlery... not even a wooden spoon. His stomach rumbled as the tantalizing aroma reminded him of how long it had been since his last meal and knowing he had to keep his strength up if he planned to find a way to escape, or at least survive until Vin found him, Chris swept his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the food. He used his fingers to pick up the small chunks of cooked meat and vegetables and then he drank the rest from the bowl. He ate quickly, not wanting to risk losing the meager meal should the surly-looking man become bored and decide not to wait for him to finish.

Chris felt infinitely better as the thin stew warmed and filled his belly, holding tight to the remaining piece of bread even though he had eaten his fill for now. The servant did not attempt to take the bread from him as he removed the wooden bowl and Chris spoke his first word to the man as he reached for the lamp.

"Please."

He let the plea hang in the air as he stared at the oil lamp but the man sneered and walked away, shutting the door behind him and plunging Chris back into pitch black once more.

"Find me, Vin. Please find me," he whispered into the darkness before closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.

****

**Seminole Village:**

Vin's disappointment grew the moment he spotted the horses tethered in the corral and knew Chris's was not among them. He dampened his growing concern in the hope that both Chris and his horse were in the center of the village but as they rode up to Tastanagi's dwelling, he saw no sign of the lean, dark-clad gunfighter.

Tastanagi came out to greet them, his hand rising in welcome but his smile of pleasure faded as if he could read the worry in Vin's heart. He waited for Vin and Josiah to dismount and stand before him before speaking.

"We welcome you ... with hospitality." His eyes crinkled a little and Vin could not help but find a spark of humor inside him that sent a small smile to his lips, recalling the first time Tastanagi had greeted them in his village. Tastanagi held out his arm and Vin gripped it in the traditional fashion. "But I see it is not just a yearning for an old man's company that has brought you here."

Vin waited while Tastanagi greeted Josiah similarly, and then he spoke. "We was hoping Chris and Nathan were here. They headed out from Jackal's Bend five days ago an' we figured they might have come back this way."

Tastanagi's seamed lips pursed, his eyes becoming serious. "For Nathan, I would have no fears of such a journey."

"But Chris?"

"He is a white man, and there are those between here and Jackal's Bend who would not look too kindly on the color of his skin." Tastanagi sighed and beckoned them towards his dwelling. "Come. Let us sit and talk of this."

Vin cast a concerned look at Josiah and then trailed off behind Tastanagi, feeling an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what sort of trouble might have found Chris. He sank cross-legged to the ground and accepted the offered water, sipping it from the bowl before passing it on to Josiah.

Vin focused on the old man. "Reckon he might have Indian trouble?"

"No. During the white man's war, many slaves fled from their masters. Some joined with us, as you can see, welcomed as part of the Seminole. Others headed north and settled together, taking ghost towns as their home. They would greet any white skinned man with hostility." Then Tastanagi smiled ruefully. "But he journeys with Nathan, so maybe this old man speaks with foolish fear."

"Maybe... an' maybe not."

Vin remembered the last time Chris disappeared without a trace, and how they had waited almost too long before setting out to find him. Only Mary's worry had stirred them at the time, though Vin had to admit he had been planning to ride out that morning anyway, to get away from the town for a day or two. In truth, he had intended to ride towards Landen in the hope of meeting Chris along the way, and then ride back with him... though he would not have admitted this to the others.

Chris had been in a terrible state when they had found him in that prison. His already spare frame had become impossibly thin in such a short time, and his face lined with pain and fatigue.

In a way, it had been fortunate that Jericho's sheriff had stopped Philips from calling in the army from Fort Yuma. It had bought them a little time to sort out the innocent from the guilty among the prisoners and, at Nathan's insistence, time for Chris to eat and rest before facing the long ride back to town. Even so, Vin had stuck close to Chris's side for most of the ride, ready to reach out and catch Chris should he fall.

After that event, Nathan had made them all promise to send word every few days if they were simply delayed or just planning to cut loose. Vin had refused on the grounds that there were no telegraph poles where he tended to roam, but agreed to send word if he drifted close to a town. Although he had given his word, Buck had the greatest problem with that idea, mainly because he spent all of his time in bed with whatever willing woman he had found, but Chris had kept his word... until now.

"Chris ain't broke his word since Jericho."

Tastanagi nodded, having heard what happened to Chris during one of Nathan's visits. "He is an honorable man."

Vin felt a tingle down his spine, warning him that someone had come up behind him on silent moccasins, and his back stiffened automatically. He saw Tastanagi's eyes flick towards the newcomer and Vin was tempted to turn around but he waited, seeing no sign of any danger reflected in the old man's eyes.

"Has something happened to Nathan?"

Vin relaxed as he recognized Rain's soft voice, and he tilted his head upwards to look at her fine features. Tastanagi stood, and Vin pushed to his feet as well, followed by Josiah.

"Ma'am." Josiah greeted her warmly. "I expect we're being a little over anxious--"

"You were expecting to find him here?"

Josiah exchanged a look with Vin and then explained the situation while Vin watched myriad expressions cross her pretty face, ranging from bewilderment to concern. Her dark eyes sought his as if seeking confirmation and he nodded.

"I know of these people and I cannot believe they would harm Nathan... unless he was protecting Mr. Larabee." She turned to Tastanagi. "I will ride with them. They will give me answers..." she turned back, her gaze encompassing both Vin and Josiah, "...where they might refuse you ."

Vin knew Rain was more than capable of looking after herself on such a journey but, still, he looked to Tastanagi for guidance, knowing the decision lay with the Chief. Tastanagi nodded once, giving his consent, and within the hour, they were heading out of the village, heading towards Jackal's Bend and the ghost town lying in between.

****

**Nightfall:**

Silas drew a cigar from the ornate box, just as his former master had done after each evening meal. One of his men reached over to light it for him and he drew on it, inhaling the heady tobacco and exhaling with a deeply contented sigh. He turned to his dining companion.

"How's my latest acquisition?"

Turner grinned. "Learning his place."

Silas leaned forward menacingly. "Don't want that white skin marked." He leaned back, satisfied by the agreement made implicitly in Turner's eyes. "See the Old Woman. Want that skin soft as a newborn... but don't let the rest of him get soft. Put him to work."

Turner nodded and Silas could see Turner liked the idea of having a white slave to play with. His eyes narrowed. "Just remember... for every new mark I find on him, I'll give you two of the same."

Some of the gleeful light faded from Turner's eyes. "Yes, sir."

"I'm heading out tomorrow for a few days an' I expect to come back an' find him ready."

Turner grinned again, not needing to ask what Silas meant by ready as he could read the hunger for white meat in the dark eyes. He doubted it had anything to do with lust and sex, and more to do with power; with turning the tables on the white man, and with the former slave becoming the master.

Turner had seen Silas do this with white females, slaking his thirst for revenge against those who had enslaved him by taking their women. None of those women had come to Silas willingly and they quickly abandoned any mixed-blood offspring when the opportunity arose, leaving the unwanted children to be raised as little more than slaves on the ranch.

Except those women never got far. Turner had buried their used-up bodies buried in shallow graves in the red sand lying between the ranch and the shantytown -- after he and his men had finished sporting with them.

****

It was only after Silas had left on the following morning that Turner realized that, despite the hunger in Silas's eyes, he had no idea what his employer intended for this white man beyond holding power over his enslavement. Perhaps Silas wanted him for a docile house slave, to bathe and dress him. Though Turner figured that, as long as he did nothing to mar the white flesh, then he could do as he pleased. His eye fell upon the stables and he smiled as he decided upon the white slave's new workstation.

Once the sun had set, he sent Grainger to bring the slave up from the root cellar. He watched in amusement as the slave shuffled between the supporting larger frames of his men, still hobbling badly from the punishment Turner had inflicted on his feet. They brought him into the well-lit stable and halted before him; his grin widened as the slave attempted to remain dignified even though he stood naked among his betters. His white skin and blond hair shone in the darkness of the evening, glowing luminously like the full moon on a warm spring night, making Turner understand Silas's interest in this new slave. The color of the slave's skin meant one thing, that the tables *had* turned and now they were the master and, in a moment of clarity, he could imagine the sight of bright red whip marks upon the pale flesh. Every lash mark and every blow of fist or cut of knife would stand out vividly like paint on canvas.

Turner's grin widened appreciatively. He was already eager to witness the flaying of that white skin once Silas had his fill of this slave.

"Set him to work cleaning out the stalls." Turner watched as his men shoved the slave forward, seeing the man barely keep his feet, but he called out when one of his men reached for a spade. "Silas wants all that skin soft. Don't want no new calluses on them hands from wielding a shovel or pitchfork."

Turner watched as the slave's eyes widened in anger, knowing by the turn of his countenance that he would not willingly submit to cleaning up the soiled hay with his bare hands. The slave took a shaky but no less intimidating step forward but Turner's men quickly restrained him. Turner grinned, pleased to see there was still some fight left in the man for he had been far too quiescent since the last beating.

"Ain't cleaning horse shit."

The words were soft, almost a whisper, and yet Turner could sense the barely checked anger and determination in them. So far, this man had refused to be intimidated by a lack of clothing and now Turner could see that the beating, which had left him hobbling, had little effect on him either. His smile widened as he recalled Negro slaves with the same dangerous air and pride, but their pride had not lasted, slowly whittled away until only a broken man or woman remained. He knew from his memory of those slaves that beatings and whippings alone served only to weaken the flesh but not the spirit. Instead, it was a combination of beatings, humiliation, starvation, solitary confinement and the pressures of his or her peers that eventually ripped away the pride to leave behind a docile slave.

He eyed the defiant man thoughtfully. How could he apply such tactics upon this slave, especially when Silas had forbidden him to mark him in any way?

He had to work out this man's weakness and then use it against him. However, that did not solve the immediate problem of making this proud man do as he was told. Turner smiled again, aware that there were plenty of ways to hurt a man without leaving a *visible* mark on his flesh. Swiftly, he slid his gun from its holster and stepped forward, flipping the gun so he held it by the barrel. He brought the gun butt down viciously, clubbing the slave, making certain the blow landed within his scalp with enough strength to cause pain but without the fear of killing him. The slave cried out and sagged between the two guards, and Turner watched with interest as blood soaked through the golden hair to trickle down the side of the slave's face. He replaced the gun in its holster and grabbed the slave by the hair, yanking his head back. Pain-clouded eyes met his.

"You do what I say, boy... or maybe I'll go looking for some other place that don't show a mark none too easy." Turner flicked his gaze to the two guards. "Set him to work... an' watch him closely."

The men shrugged, releasing the slave and pushing him forward when he did not move, and then laughed when his unsteady bare feet slipped on some of the manure and he fell heavily onto one flank amid the horse mess. Turner watched for a time, enjoying both the misery and humiliation as the kneeling slave began to clean the first stall with his bare hands. He grinned at the heavily bruised skin marring the bottom of the slave's feet, knowing it would keep the slave from making any escape attempts too soon but, eventually, he tired of watching and went back to his own duties.

****

Vin, Josiah and Rain rode hard through the day, finally stopping to make camp before the sun set. While he spitted the two rabbits he had trapped, Vin watched Rain as she finish lighting the small campfire. Flames licked at the dry tinder and she careful nurtured the fledgling fire until it caught at some of the thicker pieces of wood.

He set the rabbits above the flames and then sat back, waiting patiently as she set Josiah's battered coffeepot on the fire. He took a moment to regard her unnoticed, contemplating the wild beauty of her appearance that echoed her free spirit, and he thought of the man she loved.

His memory returned to a moment many months ago when he had found pleasure in Nathan's arms, recalling the welcome touches of a friend bringing him both relief and satisfaction. He remembered the bruising strength of Nathan's supple fingers as they curled around his hard shaft, drawing cries of pure pleasure from him until he could no longer hold back, coating those dark fingers with creamy seed even as Nathan's climax spilled between them.

Afterwards, they had lain side by side on their joined bedrolls, gazing up into a star-filled sky and talking of the past, and allowing no mention of the future. They both knew this had been but a single moment in time that held little meaning beyond their bond of friendship. It was a one-time gift to treasure, for Vin knew that Nathan's heart and soul belonged with Rain, with his love for the woman growing stronger with every meeting.

Vin sighed softly as the memory continued to play out.

Only a few weeks before that night spent in each other's arms, Nathan had saved Rain from the Pinkerton man, Cyrus Poplar. When he had offered to accompany her part of the way back to her village, Vin had believed that Nathan had finally found the strength to overcome the fears rooted in his past and ask her to marry him. Instead, he had returned to the town looking more disheartened than ever.

On that night while they lay beneath the starlight, Nathan had tried to describe his fears to Vin, of how he had lost so many people in his life that he was afraid to commit to Rain for fear of losing her too. He had laughed in self-derision as he spoke of Chris's words to him. Chris had asked him if losing them had made him sorry for ever knowing them. Nathan had pondered on those words, eventually finding an answer. He was not sorry for ever having known those people in his life. He was not sorry for knowing Chris or Vin, or any of the others in their little misfit family, and he was not sorry for knowing Rain... but it did not make the fear of losing any of them any less terrifying.

Vin had remained silent, aware that he had no words that could take away Nathan's fear any more than Chris could. This was something Nathan had to work through alone.

Then Nathan had changed the subject, asking him if someone special had caught his eye. At the time, Vin had denied having any particular fancy, strangely unwilling to share the feelings he held for Chris even with the man lying in his arms. Chris had caught his eye from the moment they met, searing him with his beauty and grace, and the passing years had done little to dampen the heat of his desire.

There had been plenty of times over the years when he could almost swear Chris held him in equal regard, and if Chris had been anything but a white man, then Vin might have taken the gamble, just as he had with Nathan that night. He might have made his affections known during one of those long errands for the Judge instead of sitting across from Chris and pretending he did not notice the way the flames from the campfire caressed the handsome face and made his blond hair shimmer like a halo.

"Coffee's ready."

Vin's thoughts came hurtling back to the present as he accepted a mug from Josiah with a nod of thanks. He settled back and let the hot coffee warm him from the inside, his gaze falling back on Rain only to find her staring back at him.

"We should reach the small town tomorrow." Her words held conviction and yet Vin could sense uncertainty in her. He waited quietly and, eventually, she uttered the words that had been playing on his own mind during the ride. "What if they never passed through there? What do we do then?"

"Little lady has a point, Vin. If we don't find any sign of them there then there ain't a whole load of other places we can go look."

"If they ain't been seen there... then we keep on going to Jackal's Bend, see if we can pick up their trail from the last place they was seen."

Josiah nodded. "Trail'll be mighty old by then... but if the Lord wants us to find them..." He let his words hang deliberately.

"Then let's hope He does 'cause I ain't never returning to town without first hearing word of their whereabouts."

They spent the rest of the evening eating rabbit and then listening to Josiah as he read to them from a book carried in his saddlebags, telling of a story of an orphaned boy named Oliver Twist. The tale mesmerized Vin, reminding him of his own unhappy childhood spent in an uncaring orphanage after his mother died. Josiah closed the book at the end of a chapter, leaving Vin to ponder on the boy's fate as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

****

Nathan ate the food set before him slowly, unable to savor any mouthful as he slipped into despair. Any hope of picking up Chris's trail would be long gone by now, scattered by the strong winds that blew across the plain. No amount of arguing or pleading had moved the sheriff into setting him free and perhaps, had even had the opposite effect. So Nathan stopped begging, letting each day pass in silence and forcing the meals down in order to keep up his strength for the days ahead.

Sooner of later, they would have to set him free.

He placed the spoon on the empty plate and swallowed the last mouthful of cornbread before pushing the tray aside. An hour later, the deputy unlocked the cell while the sheriff looked on; he retrieved the tray and walked out but did not lock the cell door behind him.

Nathan made no move, not wanting to draw either lawmen's' attention to the deputy's mistake in the hope that they would turn their backs long enough for him to make his escape. A few minutes passed and then the Sheriff spoke up.

"Ain't gonna leave that cell unlocked forever."

Nathan froze, suddenly uncertain if this was a ruse, with the sheriff hoping that he would make the escape attempt so he could legally kill him. However, if that was the case, then the Sheriff could have pulled this ruse many days ago and saved himself all the bother of watching over a prisoner.

"You free to go. your horse is out front along with your old master's... an' all his belongings. People round here figured they belong to you now an' figured you could sell them on in the next town. Kind of payment for what that white skinned devil did to you.. Just took what money was needed to pay for boarding them horses."

Nathan nodded and stood up, walking slowly to the cell door and stepping through. The very people who professed to abhor the practice had sold that 'white skinned devil' into slavery, but arguing about it had only kept him locked up in the jail house. If there was any chance of finding Chris then Nathan had to take it, and get out of the town.

He had already decided to head straight for the Seminole Village, once they released him, and borrow a horse from Rain's people while his rested, knowing how important is was to get help before Chris's trail became too cold. However, with Chris's horse running riderless alongside him, he could head straight back to the town they protected and switch back and forth between the two horses as each tired from carrying his weight.

Nathan gathered his few belongings from the Sheriff's desk but noticed that his knives and gun were missing. The Sheriff seemed to read his thoughts.

"Your weapons are sitting on a flat rock south of the town. Go straight along the main street heading away from the livery, an' then just keep on riding. Don't come back... or I'll shoot you.."

Nathan pushed his hat onto his head and pulled on his jacket. Outside, they had tethered the horses to the hitching post, with both saddled and ready to go. Nathan mounted up and then tugged the reins to pull the horses around. He nodded to the Sheriff once before setting off down the main street towards the livery with Chris's horse tied to the pommel on his saddle. Dark eyes watched him in silence, and he glanced sideways only once, to stare in anger at the woman whose prejudice had caused this whole incident.

By the time Nathan reached the flat rock and found both his and Chris's weapons, the sun hung low on the horizon. He wrapped the black, silver-studded gun belt around the Peacemaker still seated in its holster and placed the bundle in his saddlebag for safekeeping. Nathan loaded the Winchester before strapping the rifle scabbard onto Chris's horse, and once he had everything tied up securely, he climbed back onto his horse. He took a deep breath and then, with a yell and a dig of his heels, he had both horses moving swiftly into a gallop, determined to reach the one man who might be able to find Chris before it was far too late to pick up the trail... Vin Tanner.

****

A shout brought Turner running back a few hours before dawn, and he skidded to a halt as he saw the white slave holding a draw knife to Grainger's throat while another man lay unconscious on the ground close by.

"Come any closer and he's dead."

Turner drew his gun from its holster and aimed. Calmly, he pulled the trigger and watched in fascination as Grainger's head exploded like a ripe melon, with brains and bone splattering the pale, horrified face of Grainger's captor. The slave fell with the body, unable to support an additional dead weight on his damaged feet, and then pushed the body aside. He did not attempt to get up, intelligent enough to realize he had failed in this particular escape bid. Two more of Turner's men raced in and took the draw knife from the slave's hand before dragging him back to his feet.

"Don't you hurt him none," Turner called out with deadly menace, and the potentially bruising grips loosened. Turner strode forward until he was within spitting distance of the slave. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the stench of blood and horse manure combined, one finger reaching out to wipe away some of the gore from a pale cheek. The slave jerked his face away, malevolence filling the soft green eyes.

"Silas don't want no new marks on his slave. Wants to see that flesh as white as fresh driven snow. So... how does I go about punishing you for making me have to shoot a good hired man?"

"Couldn't have been that good if you felt obliged to shoot him."

"Fair comment, but I told you before 'bout speaking out of turn."

The slave merely raised his chin in defiance, as if believing he now had the upper hand even though Turner had promised to hurt him where the marks would not show but Turner had already spotted the solution watching them covertly from behind the water trough. If he had to pay for every mark Silas found on the white slave's body then, if only to save his own skin, someone else would just have to take the slave's punishment instead... and that might prove to be this slave's weakness.

****

In the room above the dark cellar, Chris could hear the boy sobbing as someone attended to the lash marks inflicted by Turner. Though he hated to agree, the overseer had found the perfect way to keep him in line by forcing him to watch the boy take the punishment that should have been his. Each crack of the whip against the boy's vulnerable flesh and each piercing cry had stabbed into Chris, but he had known better than to beg for either of them, allowing Turner to believe that he had won.

Believe? He thought viciously. Hell, he *knew* Turner had won

His last sight before they dragged him back into the cellar and slammed the solid door behind them was of the boy's torn flesh as the first streaks of daylight fell upon the macabre scene. The horror had eclipsed even the pleasure of this momentary glimpse of sunlight, leaving him almost begging for the darkness so he did not have to see the effects of his actions on the innocent boy. One thing became very clear to Chris. The next time he made an escape attempt, it had to be foolproof with no chance of recapture, if only to save another innocent person from being punished in his stead.

He cursed softly. If only he could have reached one of the horses then he would have been long gone by now but without a horse, escape was impossible. Even if his feet were up to the task, he would never be able to walk back to civilization beneath the hot glare of the sun, and traveling at night would be far more dangerous on foot.

Hell, he thought, I'd have a hard enough time walking to the cellar door. Flexing his feet without thinking, he hissed at the burning sensation that sent jagged pain up his legs, and then laughed pathetically at the thought of crawling all the way back to the town he had started to call home.

Chris shuddered in the chill of the cellar and drew the shabby blanket over his naked limbs, drawing up his knees to his belly for comfort as well as warmth. With a feeling akin to bitterness, his memories returned to the warmth of Nathan's body pressing back against his own.

Although he loved Nathan as a brother, Chris knew his heart had always belonged to another of their group, but Vin had never shown the slightest interest in him beyond their friendship and Chris did not intend to lose such a gift through a greedy need for more than that. The one time he had tried to ignore the incredible bond they shared had been a disaster, even though it had ended a frustrating search by revealing the killer of his wife and child. He thought of how he had not wanted to believe Vin's accusations against Ella, but Vin's words had played on his mind for the rest of that day, sending him along the hallway in search of answers, where he uncovered the terrible truth.

Yet, through all the numbness brought on by the horror and the gunfight that followed, Vin had been his life raft, keeping him afloat when all he wanted to do was drown in a world of misery and self-pity. All of the others had played a part in getting him back on his feet but it was Vin who had cajoled him or kicked his ass when he needed it, and Vin who had sat beside him in companionable silence at other times, constantly reminding him that he was not alone.

With shock, Chris realized that he could no longer imagine a time when he would not have that strong presence beside him, either in thought or in the flesh. Since that first day, when they had walked side by side to save Nathan from hanging, Vin had slowly filled the dark corners in his soul, and Chris prayed that their unique friendship would be strong enough to survive these new revelations about his character. Even if Vin accepted the unnatural relationship with Nathan that had led to his enslavement, Chris was afraid that the knowledge alone might be enough to weaken their friendship.

The prospect of losing his friendship with Vin weighed heavily on his mind as he succumbed to fatigue and slept.

****

Vin woke just a little before dawn, setting up breakfast despite Rain's keenness to start onward but, as Josiah reminded them, breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Without it, they would be tired and hungry by mid-morning, at a time when they needed to be most alert. If Rain's shortcut along the ridge worked out in their favor then they would be within sight of the town within a few hours. Vin just hoped they would not pass Chris and Nathan unawares, but he had a strong feeling that something had happened to both men, which spurred him on to taking the fastest route available.

Eventually, they packed up their bedrolls and cooking implements, saddled up and prepared to ride.

Almost two hours later, they reached the top of the ridge and Vin stopped, taking a moment to acquaint himself with the lay of the land. Below he could see the wide valley floor, made of dust and the few hardy plants that could survive the lack of moisture for most of the year. Movement caught his eye just as he started to turn away, and he reached for his spyglass to gain a clearer sight of the two horses racing through the valley. He pulled the eyeglass away with shock as he recognized the single figure leaning over the neck of one racing horse, and he pulled the mare's leg from its holster.

A single shot echoed through the valley and Vin watched as the rider slowed. Vin waved his arms over his head, knowing the rider would see him back lit by the sun rising slowly behind him. The horses curved in a wide arc that brought them cantering towards him.

"Vin?"

Vin could see Josiah squinting as he tried to make out what had caught Vin's eye so he handed him the spyglass. He watched as the older man focused in on one of their missing friends.

"It's Nathan... But where's Chris?" Josiah handed back the spyglass.

"Figure we need to ask Nathan that," replied Vin, and with a sharp yell, he sent his horse down the long slope, letting the gelding pick his way through the sliding shale at his own pace. He heard Josiah and Rain start down behind him, the shale dislodged from their horses' feet forming tiny land slips to either side of him. Fortunately, they all knew to take it slow and easy, with none of them wanting to end up at the bottom with a dead or lame horse.

Nathan waited for them at the bottom of the slope, and as he drew closer, Vin could see that the wide grin was one of relief rather than just the pleasure of greeting friends. Nathan came forward to meet Vin, reaching out to grab his buckskin-clad arm, and Vin watched as myriad emotions chased across the handsome face, reflecting clearly from the dark eyes. Relief, shock, fear and desperation vied for supremacy, and Vin's stomach knotted in fear, knowing it had to have something to do with Chris for why else would Nathan be riding hard with Chris's horse as well as his own. He watched as Nathan's eyes glided to Josiah, accepting the strong hand that clamped over Nathan's arm in a friendly gesture, and then widen when they met Rain's dark eyes.

"Rain? What you doing all the way out here?"

Despite Nathan's obvious pleasure on seeing her, Vin also noticed an increase in tension, and it filled him with a sense of foreboding.

"Looking for you , and Mr. Larabee."

"Where's Chris?"

Vin went straight to the point, already afraid of the answer as one particular scenario played out in his head; a vision of Chris's lifeless body lying on a dusty main street, killed in a gunfight. That nightmare had plagued him ever since the day Top Hat Bob had called Chris out while he and Chris were playing cards in the saloon. On that day, he had tightened his lips, knowing there was no way to dissuade Chris from stepping outside to meet his destiny -- or fate -- and he had vowed, silently, to kill the challenger should he take his friend's life.

"Been riding hard since dawn, an' I figure we're gonna need to sit an' plan once you hear what happened."

Josiah swung his leg over his horse and set down on the ground, reaching for the coffee pot tucked away in his saddlebags. He glanced up at Vin. "Might as well get comfortable."

Josiah had a small fire started quickly, with coffee brewing, while Vin stripped off the saddle and brushed down Chris's hot and lathered horse. The big gelding snorted contentedly, docilely accepting the gentle ministrations, though Vin knew it was because the horse recognized his scent and knew he had nothing to fear. By the time he finished, the coffee was ready and, although a patient man by nature, Vin could no longer stand the wait. All he knew was that Chris was still alive the last time Nathan saw him; otherwise Nathan would had said so straight out.

He sank down by the fire and sipped at the hot coffee, eyes stabbing into Nathan's to warn him that he had waited long enough.

"We decided to ride back from Jackal's Bend as the crow flies. Got hit by a storm and took refuge in a shantytown 'bout a two-hour's ride from here. Trouble was--"

"They don't like white men in these parts," Josiah rumbled, his eyes seeking confirmation and Nathan nodded.

"They dragged him out just before dawn, intending to hang him." His dark eyes sought out Vin's. "Weren't nothing I could do to stop them."

"But?" Vin knew this could not be the end of it.

"A man rode up just as they put the noose around his neck... an' he made a deal with the townsfolk. Took Chris an' rode off."

Vin frowned. "What kind of deal?"

Anger replaced the glassy shock in Nathan's eyes. "They sold him... into slavery. Four hundred and fifty dollars."

"Then we're gonna bring about his emancipation."

"That's just the problem, Josiah. Weren't no man in that town who'd tell me who the man was or even where he was heading, an' they told me they'd shoot first if I ever came back." Nathan turned pleading eyes to Vin. "Happened five days ago, Vin, and I ain't got the skill to follow a trail gone cold."

"But I have."

Nathan nodded, his eyes sharing the secret Vin had kept from all but Nathan that even Ella Gaines could not escape him, no matter what he had said to Chris that day. Vin had wanted to keep the details safe until the immediate pain had lessened for Chris, intending to take him out to the spot where he had buried her body once he knew his friend could deal with the knowledge that she was no longer a threat. However, with no bounty on her, he had to be very careful, especially as he already had one false claim of murder hanging over his head. Vin had no regrets for killing her for she had tried to ambush him, manipulating some nameless cowboy into helping her but making the mistake of waiting around to see him killed. Instead, he had laid both in their graves.

"Trouble is," said Josiah, "even you need a starting place."

"We got the town... an' we got Nathan. That's a starting place."

"Hell, Vin, the sheriff dragged me off to a jail cell--"

Vin leaned forward, with his eyes intent on Nathan. "Think back to the hanging. The man rides up. What kind of horse was he riding? How many men with him? Which way did he come from, and which way did he head afterwards?"

Nathan closed his eyes and tried to conjure up the nightmare scene. He pictured the man riding in, from his right, from the direction of the boarding house where he and Chris had... "Big dark bay with just a single white sock... rear left. Had at least two men with him, maybe more... and a covered wagon waiting at the livery."

"What did he do with Chris after he... bought him?"

"They put him in the back of the wagon... and then the wagon moved off."

"Which way?"

"Away from the boarding house... to the north of town... but they could have gone in any direction after leaving."

Vin reached over and touched Nathan's arm. "Think about the man that bought him."

"Silas!" Nathan looked at Vin in surprise. "Damn, why didn't I remember that before?"

"See, Josiah, we got ourselves a name and a starting point."

"And Rain."

Vin resisted the urge to look up at the sky, instinctively knowing he was referring to the Seminole woman rather than the weather, though he had known Josiah to talk in riddles on occasion.

"Townsfolk won't talk to white men... or Nathan--"

"But maybe they'd talk to a Seminole," Vin added with a grin. He turned to Rain. The woman had remained silent throughout the exchange but a glance towards Nathan revealed both renewed tension and reluctance in his expression, which she must have sensed. Instead of asking Nathan what was wrong, she asked a different question.

"Why did they want to hang Mr. Larabee? What had he done?"

The guilt that sprang into Nathan's eyes had all of them sitting up straighter. "Need to talk with Vin in private."

Vin threw a glance at Josiah, and then Rain, registering their bewilderment but he acceded, standing up and following Nathan until they were out of earshot of the other two. Nathan closed his eyes, bowing his head as if trying to work out where to begin.

"Nathan?"

He looked straight into Vin's eyes. "It rained heavy that day. Got us both soaked through to the bone. Landlady didn't want no white men in her boarding house, but she found a little compassion and said I could have a room, and he could sleep on the floor. Except, I let him sleep in the bed with me."

"They caught him sleeping in your bed... and figured it was something else?"

Nathan snorted softly. "We *was* doing something else... an' they figured no Negro would ever want a white man so he must have raped me."

Vin gaped at Nathan as the words sank in. Chris had slept with Nathan, had shared his bed and his body with Nathan. Yet, all this time he had been afraid to tell Chris how much he wanted him, purely because he never figured on Chris being interested in another man, let alone in a half breed like him. He sank down to the ground, wondering how he could have missed the signs when he thought he knew Chris so well.

"Shit!" he cursed softly, as a shroud lifted from his eyes to explain all those times when he had caught Chris watching him with a strange look in his eye, with the moment passing too quickly for him to grasp its meaning -- until now. Yet Chris had slept with Nathan without...

"Don't think Chris intended for it to happen between us. Figured he must have thought I was asleep when he touched me or maybe he was still mostly sleeping too, and dreaming of someone else... 'cause when he figured out I was awake, he pulled back like he's burned. I grabbed his wrist and drew him back, wanted him to touch me some more... enough for both of us... an' then all hell broke loose." Nathan placed a hand on Vin's shoulder. "Not sure how Josiah or Rain'll handle this... but if she goes into that town then she's gonna find out what happened."

Vin's lips tightened, understanding Nathan's fear. "Don't see it as much of a choice. Could take me days to pick up Chris's trail without knowing the exact direction they took. Following every wagon that left the town in the past five days in the hope it's the right one an' having to backtrack when it turns out to be some local farmer come into town for supplies or whiskey."

"An' Rain might find someone willing to send us in the right direction straight off," sighed Nathan. He nodded, resigned to telling Rain and Josiah the truth before they found out from strangers.

Vin shook his head as Nathan stood tall, watching as he approached the others and trying to gauge their reactions. Hurt crossed Rain's face and she turned to walk away, while Josiah remained impassive. Nathan cast a look at Josiah and then went after Rain, and Vin was not surprised when the ex-preacher stood up and started towards him. He waited as Josiah settled on a flat rock a few feet away, wanting to assess Josiah's feelings before making his own known.

Josiah sighed. "Leviticus 20, verse 13. If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death."

Vin remained silent, saddened by Josiah's judgment but Josiah had more to say.

"Read the Bible a hundred times or more... from Genesis to Revelation, and if every one of those laws was obeyed then there'd be no man or woman left alive on Earth. All condemned for one reason or another. Stoned, burned, scourged or shunned, even for trimming their beard." He rubbed his bewhiskered but otherwise shaven face, falling silent for a moment.

"Leviticus 24, verse 16. And he that blasphemeth the name of the Lord, he shall surely be put to death, and all the congregation shall certainly stone him. Yet, in the very next verse... And he that killeth any man shall surely be put to death." Josiah raised his eyes, tilting his head as he grinned ruefully. "Damned if you do, and damned if you don't. I am the Lord... and the more I read the more contradictions I found. But the Lord wouldn't have made contradictions. So who wrote those laws? The Lord or Man? With the priests choosing which ones to follow. Thou shalt not kill... unless I find some law in the Bible to justify the killing."

Hope filled Vin's eyes.

"And the man that committeth adultery with another man's wife... the adulterer and the adulteress shall surely be put to death."

Vin thought of Buck Wilmington and his love of women, no matter their marital status.

"Ye shall not steal, neither deal falsely, neither lie to one another. Neither shall a garment mingled of linen and woolen come upon thee."

Ezra, with his fine clothes, silver tongue and sharp cards.

"But on the seventh day there shalt be to you a holy day, a Sabbath of rest to the Lord: whosoever doeth work therein shall be put to death."

Vin pictured Mary Travis working on her press late into Sunday evening as she prepared the Clarion for the morning edition, and JD with his feet up on the sheriff's desk, going through the latest batch of bounty posters sent by the Judge.

"Are *their* sins... also punishable by death... any worse than Chris and Nathan's?"

"Or mine," added Vin.

Josiah shook his head, understanding that Vin had admitted to the same sin as Chris and Nathan, that of lying with another man. He grinned suddenly.

"You're already condemned for believing in familiar spirits, heathen, and should be put to death along with Rain, Tastanagi, Ko-Je, Chanu and all of their people... but I don't plan on carry out any executions in the name of the Lord." His grinned sobered. "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone... which ain't any man or woman I know."

He slapped his hat against his thigh, shaking loose the dust clinging to the surface, and then replaced it on his head before pushing to his feet. He reached out a hand to Vin.

"Daylight's wasting... and we have a friend to find."

With a smile, Vin accepted the strong hand and stood up, nodding his thanks for more than just the helping hand, but for the understanding and friendship behind it. They strode back to the campfire, ready to draw up a plan for Rain -- if she was still willing to try. One look into her face showed that she and Nathan still had a lot to talk about but she had accepted enough to make her willing to ride into the town. Within half an hour they were saddled up and riding hard towards the town.

Rain left them in a rocky outcrop about a mile to the north of the shantytown around mid-morning. Vin could only sink back against the sun-warmed rock and wait, hoping she would return with the information they sought while there was still enough daylight to start tracking and put some distance between them and the town.

****

Shantytown:

Nobody took much notice of her as she rode slowly along the main street towards the livery, having deliberately ridden around the town so she came in from the south. She pulled up and smiled at the stable master, careful not to dislodge the padding that made it look as if she was with child. The man, on seeing her condition, helped her down, accepting her money when she asked him to look after her horse.

"So... what brings you to town, missy?"

She rubbed her slightly swollen belly. "Been tracking the father of this baby. Man said he'd marry me, but he rode off instead, about a week or more back. My family told me to forget him. Said he was no good... but I love him."

"Man got a name?"

"Wilkins... Jebediah Wilkins. Works for a man named Silas." She sank down on a bale of hay. "Overheard one of the men say they planned on stopping here for a few days."

"Well... a man named Silas passed through here... nigh on a week back. Had a few men riding with him so I figure one of them could be this Jeb Wilkins."

"Did they say where they were headed next?"

"Nope, but Mr. Silas passes through here from time to time... an' I once heard one of them drivers bitching 'bout red dust. Only red dust 'round these parts is a day's ride to the north-east."

Rain looked to the northeast and nodded. "Soon as my horse is rested, I'll be heading on."

"Don't feel right a young woman in your delicate condition riding off alone." The man seemed uneasy at the prospect, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"I am Seminole. I can take care of myself."

The man's eyebrows raised a fraction, as if only just noticing, and then his eyes widened as they fell upon her hand as it hovered over a hunting knife tucked into the waistband of her skirt. He grinned. "Guess you can at that, missy."

So as not to raise suspicion, she spent the next hour picking up supplies and filling her canteen with fresh water before returning to her horse. She rode out of town to the north, eager to meet up with Nathan and the others, unable to believe her good luck in finding the answer they needed so quickly.

****

After another full night cleaning out the stables, Chris was relieved when Turner finally sent him back to the cellar. For once, the imminent sunrise was a source of pleasure rather than pain, allowing him time to recover from the filthy, degrading work and wallow in the frustration of his enslavement instead. With a young boy held hostage to gain his full cooperation, Chris had no choice but to do as he was told, with his bare hands digging into hay dampened by horse piss, and scraping up manure. They had ensured his continued cooperation by bringing the boy into the stables. Even in the glow of oil lamps, he had seen the pain and fear in the boy's eyes from the previous night's brutal whipping, and the occasional snap of the whip, caressing the boy's torn, bare back with just the slightest of stings, provided a constant reminder that Turner did not bluff.

Chris huddled on the less than fragrant bedding, with the increasing stench of his own body, sweat and horse manure permeating the air around him. He knew that keeping him filthy was part of Turner's plan to break him in both mind and spirit, knew that Silas had forbid Turner to touch him in any other way, and so far, it had proven most effective. For two days and nights, he had endured the scorn of Turner's men, pushing him, groping him and slapping his bare ass as if he was some mindless animal that had to be herded. All the while, the snap of that whip or a small cry of pain from the boy forced him to clench his fists against his sides to stop them from striking out, and tighten his lips against the screams of rage filling him.

At those times, he looked to the memory of his friends and found an oasis of calm as he recalled their patience. Josiah, whose patience verged on saintly until a bottle of whiskey found its way into his hands. Ezra, whose quick mind worked patiently all through the night as he parted men from their dollars, even as his mouth ran a mile a minute as a distraction, only to become flustered by the appearance of his mother -- or a speck of dirt on his clothing. He thought of Nathan, sitting like a rock beside a sick man, woman or child for days on end, only to turn to molten lava when he saw an injustice.

Then there was Vin Tanner, who kept so still and silent, blending into the rocks and shadows as if a part of them. How many times had others forgotten the man's presence, shock widening their eyes when he appeared in front of them as if he was a ghost stepping out of thin air?

However, there was more to Vin's patience than that of a skilled hunter of man and beast. In the three years since they first met, Chris had rarely heard him raise his voice in anger, and even then, Vin aimed most of that anger aimed towards himself... or towards Chris.

Chris froze on that thought, having never considered how easily he could shatter Vin's control until this moment. No one else seemed to get under the man's skin so easily, but there was more to it than that. The man might be able to stay like a statue for hours on end but he never truly relaxed, except for when he was with him. Only then did he let down his guard, pulling the battered hat from his head and dropping it to the table before running those strong, lean and deadly fingers through the mass of unruly brown curls. Only then did he reach out for the bottle of whiskey, and then sprawl back in the chair, legs splayed, and arms and hands held loose away from the easy reach of mare's leg or knife, though never quite beyond reach. Hard, gemstone eyes would soften to a summer cornflower blue and a lazy smile would raise one corner of the firm lips that Chris hungered to kiss.

"No."

His voice, though only a whisper, sounded far too loud in the darkness, but he had to force away any hope that Vin might be equally attracted to him for fear of acting on that wish during a moment of weakness. Vin was his friend, his best friend. A brother in all but blood, and acting on such a half-deranged impulse would be the surest way of sending that friend riding off into the night, never to be seen again. He could not take that risk for Vin's friendship meant everything to him.

Might have already lost it, he thought miserably as he imagined Vin's reaction to learning the truth of what had happened in that shantytown. He knew Nathan would not breathe a word of it unless he had to, so if he could get free before Nathan was forced to tell, or before Vin found out by other means, then maybe not all was lost.

Silently, he cursed the compassion that filled his soul for those weaker than he was... for the young boy who had already paid a high price for *his* stubbornness. He wished he could be the cold, cruel-hearted gunfighter that so many believed him to be, as unfeeling as he had once been... before Buck, and then Sarah. Before Nathan... and Vin.

Vin Tanner. The man who had looked straight into his eyes that first day without any trace of fear. His piercing blue eyes had seen beyond the shadow of darkness in which he had cast himself, and seen beyond the hard lines of grief in his face, igniting a flare of compassion for an innocent man about to be hanged by a lynch mob. Chris gave a short derogatory laugh. Or maybe those eyes had sparked against his burning desire for justice, which he had been seeking those long years since he buried his wife and boy, turning it outward to fall upon an injustice that he *could* correct.

He sat up, pushing aside the thoughts along with the blanket and stared towards where he knew the door lay in the hope of catching some glimmer of light. His hand ran, gingerly, through his hair, catching on strands stiffened by sweat and blood. He hissed as his inquisitive finger found the gash where Turner had struck him. No one had offered him water to clean away the blood. In truth, they had given him precious little to drink, and certainly not enough to waste on his head wound or on bathing. He could only be grateful that the wound had not become infected.

He rose to his unsteady feet tentatively placing his weight upon the still-painful flesh, and gritted his teeth as he moved slowly to the door. His fingers followed the minute crack between door and wall in some vain hope that he might find enough leverage to open the bolted door with his ragged nails. He slumped against the unmoving door, his cheek resting against its rough-hewn surface. Slowly, he pulled away, edging around the room one pace at a time, with his fingers acting as his eyes, trying to 'see' his surroundings in the hope that he could find an opening that might lead to freedom, but there was nothing but damp earth shored up by thick joists of wood. He paused, screwing his eyes tight against the pain that lanced up from his damaged feet.

Damp earth.

His fingernail scraped the wall. *Loose* damp earth. He closed his eyes to gain a mental image of the cellar's position within the small outbuilding, and grinned. He moved just as little faster as he returned to the door and then carried on past until he reached the corner. Several steps along the next wall he bumped into a large heavy wooden cupboard. Out of curiosity, he opened the doors and reached inside to discover that it had no wooden back; a plan formed. He knew it could take days but it was better than just sitting around like some damsel in distress from one of JD's dime store novels, waiting to be rescued. He would not even have to try to conceal the dirt under his nails as they were already caked with worse from the stables.

With a rise in hope, he began to dig into the damp earth, angling upwards in the sure knowledge that freedom lay less than ten feet away.

****

Vin found the first wagon track within an hour of them heading northeast. The rain had turned the earth to mud on the day Silas's men had passed through with the lightly loaded wagon, leaving ruts in the ground that had baked hard in the days that followed. The torrential rain had washed away the tracks soon after but Vin picked up the trail again a few hours later in another sheltered spot, giving him a boost of confidence as he set his eyes towards the towering rocks in the far distance.

"Red sand," he murmured, recalling what the livery master had said to Rain, and he took off at a fast pace with the others following.

He had no idea how long the journey would have taken for Chris but he knew that, as long as that slow wagon had kept on a straight track towards that red canyon ahead, then he and the others would be covering that same distance much faster. He estimated that it would have taken a loaded wagon about two days to reach the canyon, which tallied with what the livery master had told Rain about it being a day's ride on horseback from the shantytown, but Vin reckoned they could reach it before midmorning on the next day if they pushed hard.

As they rode, Vin kept a watch for any places where the wagon could have veered off but found no obvious trails, heartened by the knowledge that Silas had made this trip fairly regularly according to the livery master, and so, as with the tracks of migrating animals, the signs would be there if this particular trail went cold. Instead, he saw nothing but this ghost of a trail leading towards the distant red sandstone canyon.

Eventually, he reined in, staring at the still distant towers of red rock as if he could will them closer but he had to give in to the inevitable fall of night, and the exhaustion of their horses.

"We'll camp here for the night."

****

The sun was high in the sky as they entered the canyon on the following day. Vin slowed and motioned the others to wait as he moved on, cautiously eyeing the high banks of rock stretching upwards to each side and knowing there were a thousand places where a man could lay in wait for the unwary. He stopped and stretched out his senses, relying on all that the Comanche and Kiowa had taught him. He heard the rustle of a hare, and watched as it broke cover to nibble at the thorny grass that had sprung up following the short rainstorm earlier that week. His eyes caught the trickle of pebbles sliding down the slope to his right, and he froze in readiness, only to see another desert hare scrabble under cover.

His senses had rarely betrayed him, and never when he was focusing hard on the world around him. The only times that someone had got the drop on him had come when his mind had been otherwise occupied with thoughts of the wrong kind. He recalled how his compassion for Chanu had almost got him killed, and one other time when Yates and his men had snuck up on him in the town. That time, it was thoughts of Chris Larabee that had dulled his wary senses as he contemplated the two days and nights they would spend away from the town together, after Chris had offered to accompany him on a hunting trip.

This time, Vin knew that he had no such distractions. He turned in the saddle and beckoned to the others, hoping they could make it most of the way through the canyon before it became too dark to see his way clearly.

Once night fell, they had set up camp beneath an overhang, quickly getting food and coffee into their bellies before settling down to sleep. Vin offered to take first watch but Josiah insisted on that duty, knowing that Vin needed to rest his eyes after following the faint tracks all through the long day. Knowing better than to argue once Josiah had made up his mind, Vin pulled his blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes, allowing the sweetest dreams of Chris Larabee to fill his mind's eye as he quickly drifted into sleep.

****

Josiah balanced the rifle across his knees and looked down at the small camp. From here, all he could see were the tips of Vin's buckskin-clad feet as they poked out from beneath his blanket. He gave a wry smile and then looked up into the clear night sky, seeking patterns in the stars that he had learned from a book many years ago, and recalling the mythology behind each one.

Slowly, his thoughts turned inwards as he thought of the three men whom he had come to look upon as brothers, wondering how such a tangled web of emotion could be straightened. Nathan and Chris, and Nathan and Rain. He knew Nathan's heart belonged with the young Seminole woman, and that it was a bonding of a different nature that had formed between him and Chris that night. One of friendship, of brotherhood, like the ancient comrades-in-arms from those old stories of ancient Greece... or even from the Bible.

"Even David had his Jonathan," he murmured softly, then a mental image startled him, one of Chris lying with Vin, and yet it seemed so right.

He thought of the two younger men together, how each complimented the other, taking two ragged halves and making a whole. He recalled the first time he saw them together, seated side by side atop their horses, and if he had not learned soon after that they had only just met then he would have believed they were lifelong friends. So easily did they move together. Almost as one, shadowing each other as if trained together from infancy, with just a look or the slightest gesture saying more than Ezra could manage with plenty of words at his disposal.

He thought of how neither man truly relaxed except when basking in the company of the other, and how their eyes would seek out each other whenever danger approached. Yet, despite this closeness, Josiah knew that they had never taken the same step together that Chris had taken with Nathan, or that Vin had taken with another man, but it was obvious to Josiah now that both men had been subconsciously courting each other since that first meeting of souls.

Josiah smiled. "God moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform."

Until a few days ago, neither man had realized that their courtship dance *could* come to a perfect end, for the fear of unacceptable love had kept them at a distance, but this fear no longer existed for Vin. Now he knew that Chris was capable of responding -- and loving -- another man, but would this knowledge give him the strength to take a chance on that other man being him? Would Vin willingly risk their friendship on this chance of having a far deeper relationship with a man he already loved greater than a brother?

Although the Bible said otherwise, Josiah hoped so, and he said a quick prayer to the God he had never ceased to believe in despite the rocky path his life had taken, that it might come to pass.

****

Chris kneeled upright at the sound of an approaching horse, his hand automatically reaching to the small of his back to ease the pressure of bending over for too long as he tried to sweep up the soiled hay with his hands. He held his breath as a big, dark stallion with a single white sock on the rear foot came to a halt in the wide-open doorway at the end of the stable, eyes drifting upwards to the large man sitting astride the bay to find dark eyes staring back at him from a face filled with thunder.

The man dropped from the horse and strode over, with anger stiffening his stride into a hard march. Chris started to rise but Turner's man whacked a stick behind his knees, causing him to drop back to the filthy ground. The action turned Silas's anger upon the hapless guard and he snatched away the stick, slamming it back at the guard's face hard enough to drive him to his knees beside Chris.

"Get out o' my sight."

The guard struggled back to his feet pushing up with one hand while the other cupped his bloodied jaw. He scrabbled away, eager to get away from Silas, leaving Chris the focus of attention once more.

"Said I wanted him ready for when I got back," Silas snarled.

"Weren't expecting you back for another day or so, Silas. I'll get him cleaned up for you.... bring him to you in an hour." Turner flicked a gaze to the remaining guard, who reached forward to grab Chris by one arm.

"Take more than an hour to get rid of that stench of horse shit." With lips tightened in barely contained fury, Silas turned away, taking several steps before he stopped abruptly and turned back. "You let me down, Ezekiel. Came back all fired up an' ready to enjoy this white boy... an' now I got to wait a day or so. An' you know I ain't a patient man."

Chris kept his silence as Silas strode away, hearing the angry man barking orders at others as he marched into the ranch house. He hid a smile of relief, aware that Turner's debasing work had given him an unexpected reprieve from whatever nastiness Silas had planned for him. As he was 'marched' back to the cellar, he thought about the small tunnel that already stretched three feet back into the earth at a sharp inclination, and then straight up about another four feet; the earth had been far looser than he had anticipated at first. However, that had not lasted as the sun had baked the top layer. He thought of the piece of wood that he had prized loose from one wall and used to scrape out the soil, hoping that its sharp edge would be able to dig through that final hard crust of earth.

As soon as the guard bolted the door behind him, he set to work, keeping his ears open for any sound of someone approaching. Half an hour passed before he heard the thud of metal against the wooden floor above. He backed out of the cupboard, closing its doors to conceal the mound of earth and the small hole that was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through when the time came.

Chris heard someone pulling back the bolt and then the door swung open and the guard stepped in, holding a gun in one hand and a lamp in the other. He motioned for Chris to circle around and go up the short flight of steps, keeping him in his sights at all time.

The increased light in the room above made his eyes water as usual but he located the source of the thud that had come earlier, watching intently as a man arrived with a bucket to start filling a tin bathtub with hot water. A woman's voice made his muscles twitch in shock, with his hands dropping automatically to cover his groin -- and spare his dignity. He swallowed hard.

"Not like I ain't seen it all afore, child."

He squinted against the bright light and watched as an old woman stepped up to the bathtub to add a mixture of herbs to the water. The heavy seams on her dark-skinned face were testament to the harsh life she had led in both slavery and freedom. Her hands were gnarled from years of hard labor and her hair had turned gray with age.

"The herbs will loosen the grit and soften the skin."

She dipped her hand into the water to swirl the herbs in the hot water, and Chris caught the first scent of something far more pleasant than the stench of sweat and horse manure that enshrouded him. Several more buckets of water followed until the old woman declared there was enough and told Chris to climb in so she could start scrubbing the dirt off him.

"Don't need any help taking a bath."

The old woman merely smiled and waited. "That bath water won't stay hot forever."

Chris had to admit that the thought of sinking into the hot bath and soaking away the stench of sweat and the stables from his body was too good to resist. He climbed in and settled down, recalling the last time he had taken a bath in a tub like this with a woman nearby. It had been before he discovered the truth about Ella Gaines, and he remembered the way her hands had massaged his skin and her girlish laugh as he had pulled her into the tub with him. At the time, he had believed that would be a wonderful memory to cherish as they started out a new life together. But now?

The thought of her hands on his flesh -- of *any* woman's hands -- filled him with abhorrence as he imagined those same hands being kissed by Cletus Fowler as they completed the deal that would almost destroy his life and his happiness.

Almost. Though, for a time, it had seemed he would never find a way out of the darkness of his grief, but Buck had left a candle flickering in the distance, following him from town to town in the hope he would one day walk back towards the light. Still, it had taken a pair of piercing blue eyes to splinter the darkness, though shards of grief and despair still had the power to pierce him on those special days each year; the day they had married, the day Adam was born... and the day they had died.

In a sense, learning of Ella's part in their deaths had spurred on the healing process, turning any lingering despair outwards as he focused on the revenge that would be his one day. Often he dreamed of standing over her grave, knowing he had no need to curse her to an eternity in Hell for she had damned herself the day she ordered the murder of an innocent woman and child. Still, the dreams felt good just for knowing that she could no longer reach out and destroy whatever new life he made for himself.

If only those dreams were true, he thought.

Chris hissed as the old woman began to scrub at his skin, and then gasped as her gnarled hands caught the jagged cut from where Turner had clubbed him with his gun.

"You sure are a mess, child."

The water and soap loosened the dried blood on his scalp and in his hair, adding a pale pink hue to the already dirty water. He heard the old woman call out for clean water.

"Gonna take more than one bath to clean you up but, my, you sure is starting to look like a handsome white boy again. That dirt got you 's to looking so brown I'd mistake you for one of Silas's young 'uns."

Chris frowned for he could not recall seeing any children around that could belong to Silas. The only child he had seen was the boy who had taken a whipping in his stead but then, he thought, the only time they allowed him out of the cellar was at night when most children would be tucked up in their beds. He sighed in relief as she stopped scrubbing at his scalp, then jerked his head back sharply as she rubbed something into the wound, gritting his teeth against the sting.

Finally, after taking a second bath in clean water, the guard ordered him out of the tub, throwing him a freshly laundered blanket before pushing him back towards the cellar and the almost overpowering stench that permeated the air down there. By the light of the lamp, he noticed that someone had stripped and changed the bedding while he bathed, and he fell onto the fresh sheets, succumbing to the exhaustion brought on by the hot baths. He decided he would sleep for an hour, and then he would figure out a way to carry on digging his escape tunnel, for if his calculations were correct then he had less than two feet to go. However, he knew that this last two feet could take him as much time to dig out as the first six because the earth was packed hard and dry. Still, he knew he had to escape before this night was over, for he had a strong suspicion that it would be his last chance.

****

Vin had the small group up and moving in the early hours of the morning, well before the dawn. He could not explain why, only that his dreams had been filled with an edge of desperation, urging him to move *now*. He had learned to heed those dreams from an early age, likening it to the spiritual visions of some of his Comanche and Kiowa brethren... those with the 'blessing'.

In the past, those dreams had shown him where to find the best hunting grounds and had led him from danger more times than he could recall, or had given him the edge when he could not remove himself directly from the danger. However, it was interpreting the dreams that had always been the hardest part, though the medicine men of the Kiowa and Comanche had given him some guidance from their own experiences. This particular dream had shown a sunrise turning the sleek pale-gold coat of a weakened mountain lion to blood red as the pitch-black shadow of a large crow passed over the helpless form. He had seen this mountain lion before in his dreams, and had come to associate the animal with a certain lithe and deadly gunfighter -- Chris Larabee.

Seeing the mountain lion weak and helpless had sent fear skittering into his heart and soul. He knew the red sunset was a warning that blood would be spilled, and the crow had always symbolized death to him just as it did to Josiah. However, though the shadow of death had passed over the mountain lion, it had not settled, making him wonder if death for Chris would be something held at bay... or longed for. Whichever, Vin knew he had to find Chris quickly, or face the possibility that all he would ever find would be the end of his own dreams should Chris succumb to the shadow of death hovering over him.

No one grumbled or questioned his urgency as they packed away the camp and saddled the horses, following him without a murmur into a darkness broken only by starlight. The moon rose above the canyon wall, bathing them in greater light as Vin followed the wagon ruts and he paused only once as they neared the end of the canyon, not wanting to make a mistake in the darkness and lead them astray. Once Vin was certain of the right direction, he urged his horse onwards at a canter, keen to cover as much distance as he could before sunrise.

With barely an hour to go before the sun breached the distant horizon, Vin saw the telltale signs of a ranch, picking out the faint orange glow of lamplight. He moved cautiously now, dismounting and ground tying his horse when he reached the shadows edging the ranch. His eyes flicked to Josiah as the older man hunched down next to him, and then to Nathan as he settled on the other side, leaving Rain to watch over the horses. Part of him was thankful that it was Rain and not JD who had accompanied them on this search for JD would have seen that task as an affront to his dignity. Vin knew it had to be frustrating for JD, being the youngest and most inexperienced of the Seven, but if he had been brought up with the People then he would have understood both the necessity and the importance of the task. In contrast, the Seminole woman had made no complaint at being the one left behind, understanding that they would not get far if they lost those horses.

"Lights seem brighter than I'd expect for this early hour. Can see a barn, an outhouse, bunkhouse and two other building's 'sides the ranch house. Ain't gonna be easy to figure out where they're holding Chris."

"If," warned Nathan.

"He's here. Can feel him." Vin left it at that, knowing he had no way of proving what his sixth sense was telling him but hoping the others had seen enough of his strange premonitions in the past to not argue the point now. He had no idea how he knew these things but his awareness of Chris Larabee had only grown stronger since the first day they met, as if the other man had become an integral part of him.

Josiah's deep voice rumbled beside him. "Any ideas, Nathan?"

"Ain't no way of telling. All depends on what Silas wanted with him, but he seemed mighty taken with Chris, enough to pay four hundred and fifty dollars when he could have hired or kidnapped himself a white man for a lot less."

Vin frowned. "That's what's been bothering me. The man could have grabbed one of them lonesome drifters for nothing if all he wanted was a white man to own... so why pay for one?"

"Fact that he paid such a sum means he ain't gonna kill Chris out o' hand. One thing I learned from being a slave is the master would beat you., whip you., starve you., and even sell you away from your loved ones, but he rarely killed excepting when there was no choice. Had too much money tied up in his slaves to go 'round killing them on a whim." Nathan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'd be a mite more worried for Chris meeting his Maker if the town had given him to Silas for free."

Vin shook his head slowly. "Don't mean he won't be wishing he was dead if Silas has taken to whipping and beating him every day... or worse. Ain't been that long since Jericho... or since the day you dug Handsome Jack's bullet out of him. Both left more scars than you can see on the outside."

Josiah sighed softly. "Worrying about what might be ain't going to help Chris." He froze, eyes narrowing at movement. "Look, Vin."

Vin turned his attention to the boy carrying a heavy pail of water towards one of the storage buildings. It seemed a little early to start scrubbing out the building and Vin doubted Silas kept any livestock in there that would need feed and water.

"Could be Silas keeps other help 'sides the ranch hands? Boy looks like he's barely old enough to be away from his ma."

"He's hurting," said Nathan and Vin could not deny the stiff way the boy walked that could not be put down solely to the burden he carried.

They watched as a man walked across the dusty ground from the bunkhouse to the side of the storage building, carrying a spade. The man stopped and began shoveling dirt close to the wall.

"He digging a grave?" asked Josiah

"No." Vin watched a little longer, puzzled by the way the man moved the dirt from one place to another. "Looks like he's filling a hole."

"Grave?"

Vin's eyes snapped to Josiah's, not wanting to believe the man could be burying something -- or someone -- especially as the hole looked a little too small, unless they had lowered the body in feet or head first. To Vin's eye, it looked more like a large rabbit hole. He smiled, "Or an Escape hole."

"Chris," they whispered in unison, knowing how tenacious Chris could be.

Now they were certain where Silas was holding Chris, Vin made plans, wanting to use the last of the cover of darkness to sneak into the building and set Chris free. They waited until the man had finished filling in the hole and then he, Josiah and Nathan split up, knowing Rain would be waiting and watching, with the horses ready to go at a moment's notice. Each took separate routes down to the building, staying in the deepest shadows and then pressing up against the thick wooden structure. Vin entered the building first, slipping silently into the shadows just inside the door and taking note of his surroundings. He frowned, as there was no one to be seen but he could hear the sound of movement coming from below, in the root cellar. Leaving Josiah outside the storage building, standing watch, he and Nathan made their way down a small flight of steps to the open cellar door, wrinkling their noses at the pungent odor; they peered inside. The lamplight provided enough illumination to see the boy sweeping the dirt floor, and to make out the simple furnishings in the cellar. It contained a single pallet bed with a lumpy mattress set on top, covered in a thin sheet and a threadbare blanket.

Vin sniffed, aware of the strong scent of horse manure and then recognizing an underlining musk that sent shivers of desire coursing through him. Chris had been here... but where in Hell was he now? There seemed only one easy way to find out, and Vin stepped out of the shadow and leveled his gun at the boy as a deterrent, and hoping the boy would be too afraid to realize that he would never shoot.

"Where's the white man Silas brought back with him?"

The boy's eyes widened in fear, and Vin noticed they were a deep blue rather than the customary dark brown of his people. The boy was a half-caste, though with Negro blood rather than his Indian blood mixed with white. Nathan stepped forward with his hands outstretched and empty.

"We ain't gonna hurt you., boy. Just wanna find our friend."

He saw Nathan reach out and lay a hand on the boy's shoulder, and watched the boy flinch away in pain. Nathan pulled away the rough material and looked at one visible mark striping across the boy's shoulder, instantly recognizing the mark of a whip.

"Who did this to you.?" asked Nathan, though Vin could hear the anger in his softly spoken words.

"T...Turner. Weren't nobody allowed to mark your friend... not even Turner... so when he tried to escape last time, they made him watch me take a whipping for what he'd done. Been scared Turner was coming back to make me pay again for this 'un."

"This 'un?"

The boy indicated towards an open closet and the mound of earth spilling from its interior, and Vin knew that it had to be the other end of the hole the man had been filling on the outside of the storage building.

"He done tried to escape through a hole he dug."

Nathan's features were a mixture of outrage and compassion but Vin had a feeling this kind of cruelty was nothing he had not witnessed during his enslavement. Nathan's deep voice grew soft. "Want you to come with us when we leave here... but we can't leave without our friend. You know his whereabouts?"

Vin knew the boy had no reason to trust any of them but Nathan's innate gentleness seemed to reach the boy, just as Vin had seen on a dozen or more occasions when Nathan had approached someone sick or injured. He watched as Nathan eased the boy's fear.

"Silas had him took to the big house 'bout half an hour ago," he whispered. "Kept saying it was time Olorun breathed some life into his bones." Nathan's eyes widened and he turned to Vin, leaving Vin in no doubt that it meant something unpleasant. He looked back at the boy.

"You got a ma?" The boy shook his head. "Want you make for that small mound of rocks to the south, an' call for Rain. Tell her what you know an' then wait for us."

The boy seemed confused but Vin knew there was no time to explain that Rain was a person; instead, he raced out of the cellar as swiftly and quietly as possible. Sunrise could only be five or ten minutes away for the gray fingers of the dawn had started to stretch across the sky, forcing back the darkness of night. With Josiah and Nathan following close behind, the three moved quickly to the ranch house using the last of the shadows to hide them from unsuspecting eyes. Vin eyed the small lean-to, knowing he could use it as an easy means to gain access to one of the top floor windows. He indicated to Josiah, who linked fingers to form a living stepping-stone, waiting for Vin to place his booted foot on that step before giving him the boost he needed to reach the top of the lean-to.

He looked back down, indicating for Nathan and Josiah to watch the back and front respectively, knowing the only chance they had of rescuing Chris might lie in stealth.

Carefully, Vin picked his way across the roof and glanced through the window. The room beyond seemed empty so Vin tried the window, smiling as it opened easily. He slipped inside and paused beside the door leading to the hall, his heart skipping a beat when he heard a faint cry from down the short corridor... a muffled cry mixed in with the sound of flesh hitting flesh, which sounded like it had come from Chris.

****

Chris cried out as the hand struck him again, the sound muffled by the bandanna that Silas had shoved into his mouth earlier.

He had come so close to escaping, his fingers tearing away the last few inches of baked earth with renewed frenzy as he felt his fingertips push into the void of open space above ground. It took several minutes before he could wriggle through the small hole, gritting his teeth to force silence, not wanting anyone to hear his bid for freedom.

The old woman had spotted him before he could use the dark blanket he had dragged through with him to conceal the lightness of his skin and hair, screaming out a warning that brought Silas, Turner and their men running. He had tried to run, knowing there were too many to risk hand-to-hand fighting on the off chance that he might reach a gun, but in his weakened state from feet that were still too tender from Turner's previous punishment, he had not gone far before one of Turner's men overtook him and brought him down. That left only fighting, and he managed to land several good punches before the others reached him. They dragged him to his feet and hauled him back to where Silas stood appraising his naked, dust-covered body in the moonlight. A hungry look passed over the man as Silas stared at him, causing a shiver that went straight through his bones and deep into his soul.

"Clean him up an' then bring him to the house. It's time Olorun breathed some life into these bones o' mine." He grinned and turned away, striding back towards the house.

Chris knew he had used up his last chance and the knowledge fueled his desperation for freedom as he cussed and struggled against the men holding him but they held him tightly, dragging him over towards the horse trough and pushing him into water that had chilled overnight. Chris gasped at the shock of cold water, choking as he swallowed a mouthful straight into his lungs. Hands dragged him up and then pushed him back under, scrubbing at his hair and body as they wiped off the last traces of dirt from his flesh. Half drowned, his struggles were weaker when, finally, they hauled him out and half-carried him to the house. He came to his senses by the time they reached the porch, lashing out at his captors suddenly and gaining a lucky strike at one with his knuckles glancing off the man's cheekbone, bringing forth a yowl of pain, but neither man struck back. Instead, they hurried him through the house and up the stairs, ignoring his shouts of rage as he cursed them.

Confusion caught him as he spied the large bed. It was covered in a black cloth... and then he noticed the ropes dangling from each corner of the iron-wrought bedstead. Chris fought harder still as he was shoved onto the bed, face down, his yells muffled, kicking and punching in some vain hope that it would prevent the inevitable but, one by one, his wrists and ankles were caught and tied down.

The hands left his body as Silas ordered his men to leave, and Chris lay still with only the sound of his harsh breathing filling the room. It seemed as if an eternity passed until he heard the door open once more, though he knew it could only be twenty minutes or so, but it had been enough time for him to pull at his bonds and realize that they were tied too tight for him to free himself. He jerked when a warm hand traveled his body from shoulder blade to hip.

"Why don't you just kill me and get it over with," he snarled.

Deep, rich laughter filled the room. "Oh, I don't intend on killing you.. Paid too much for your pretty white skin an' a dead slave ain't worth a cent."

The hand returned, this time stroking his flesh boldly, as if Silas owned it. That was the moment when Chris finally understood the desires driving the man. Silas wanted to have ultimate power over a man belonging to the same race of his former masters, but he could have taken that from any white man who inadvertently crossed his path. Instead, he had chosen Chris, and the reason became clear.

For Silas, it could not be just any white man. He wanted to turn the tables, taking a white *master* and making him his slave, to beat and whip and abuse in whatever fashion he desired, just as his master had abused him in his former life. It must have seemed, to Silas, that he had found the perfect opportunity to fulfill that desire when he came across Chris in that shantytown. At the time, Chris had been too dazed to understand what was happening, only aware that the townsfolk had found him in Nathan's bed, pressed up behind Nathan, and with the musk of newly spilled seed filling the air. However, until this moment, it had not occurred to him that they might believe he had some hold over Nathan, keeping him enslaved to him through fear, but it explained why they had not tried to hang Nathan right alongside him for allowing the touch of a white *man*. They must have believed Nathan to be a victim, effecting his emancipation by hanging the 'master' who sought to sodomize him.

Greed had stayed their hand, or perhaps they enjoyed the idea of the 'master' becoming the slave, to be used and abused just as they had once been on the plantations of the South.

When Silas touched him again, this time far more intimately as his hand caressed an ass cheek, Chris bucked up as high as he could and let out a stream of curses that questioned Silas's origins. His head jerked back as Silas grabbed a handful of his hair, and then he gagged as Silas forced some material into his mouth, with a bandanna securing it in place.

"Ain't gonna let that foul mouth run loose. Once I done broke you., then you won't have the will to use that mouth for anything but wrapping 'round my meat." He yanked Chris's head back again. "An' it's such a pretty mouth too."

Silas touched him again, and Chris clenched his ass muscles as he felt an unmoving hand on each cheek.

"So white," Silas murmured, and Chris realized why Silas had covered the bed in black cloth, knowing it would make a stark contrast against his pale flesh. One hand lifted, and Chris cried out at the sudden stinging blow to that cheek. "Now so red... but don't you worry none 'cause I ain't planning to damage that fine, white skin... not permanently, anyhow."

Silas pushed a thick pillow beneath Chris's pelvis, forcing his ass up. Then Chris heard the unmistakable sound of cloth sliding over flesh and knew that Silas was undressing but there was not one damned thing he could do about it while he was tied, spread-eagled, to the bed. He felt the lower end of the bed shift with new weight, leg muscles tensing as warm hands stroked from his bound ankles upwards to cup his ass and knead the cheeks, with thumbs slipping into the crevice to brush over the hidden entrance to his body.

There could be no mistaking Silas's intentions now and Chris whimpered in frustration, knowing he could do nothing to stop the man from taking what he wanted, though it did not stop him from trying. He arched backwards; jerking violently as he tried to throw the man off him but the ropes gave him little leverage. Tears of anger and remorse spilled over as he felt strong, slippery fingers sink into his flesh, opening him up to get him ready for something thicker. He remembered those few times lying with Buck, when they had found satisfaction with the other's hand, and yet he had refused to let Buck take him, unwilling to make that ultimate submission even for his oldest, and at the time, his best friend.

His soul cried out in grief and loss as he realized that he would have given it all to Vin if only he'd had the courage to make that offer. Fear of losing Vin's friendship had stayed his hand, unwilling to risk all that he had for something that he could get from a two-bit whore.

'That ain't true,' his heart cried out, for he knew there was a vast difference between sex and love. He had only to recall the feel of Sarah in his arms as he moved inside her to know that it bore no comparison to the few sweaty minutes of lust with Lydia or Maria. Sex with Sarah had been more than just the meeting of bodies, it had been the twinning of hearts too, and he knew it would be no different with Vin Tanner, perhaps even greater for his very soul had seemed to reach out to the other man from the moment they met.

Chris clenched every muscle as Silas lined up behind him, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the searing pain of unwanted possession. He felt the strong fingers prizing his ass cheeks apart... and then the door opened abruptly and Silas froze above him.

"Get your hands off him." The familiar ratchet sound of a bullet loading into the chamber of a sawed-off rifle -- a mare's leg -- accompanied the low, rough voice.

Chris could not see Vin but he would know that gravel-soft voice anywhere, even recognizing it through the thick Texan accent that became even more apparent when Vin was angry or upset. He sagged down in relief as Silas's weight shifted backwards on the bed, turning his head to the side and straining upwards in the hope of glimpsing the one man he had been praying for since the whole ordeal began back in that shantytown. He felt the lightening of the mattress as Silas climbed off, and caught the scent and sight of buckskin as Vin moved further into the room.

Silas snarled in response. "I own him, and' I ain't gonna let you take him from me."

"Seems to me like you ain't got a lot of choice."

The thud of wood hitting flesh punctuated Vin's sentence, and Chris grunted softly as a heavy weight slumped across his legs, but then he felt the weight slide aside. Vin hunkered down beside the bed and Chris found he was staring into familiar deep blue eyes, filled with concern and some other indefinable emotion. Strong fingers removed the gag and Chris worked some spit into his dried mouth before talking.

"Knew you 'd find me."

Vin pulled a hunting knife from its sheath, making short work of the bonds holding Chris. "Ain't over yet, Cowboy. We still got to get out of here alive."

****

In his wildest dreams, Vin had never anticipated what he would find when he opened the door to Silas's room. The tableau had frozen in his mind's eye for several long seconds as he took in the sight of Chris lying naked, gagged and bound on the bed. Damp, white skin glistened against the black sheet, with dark hands holding apart the pale globes of Chris's raised ass. The thick, dark-skinned shaft, slicked with grease, was pressed against the entrance to Chris's body and Vin felt a surge of rage against this man who would dare to force his unwanted possession of Chris.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to destroy this man and, barely, could he hold his rage in check as he turned the mare's leg and struck Silas down with the stock. For Chris's sake, he pushed aside the killing thoughts clouding his mind and strove for his inner reservoir of peace, knowing he had to get Chris to safety. Gently, he removed the gag, finding that inner peace as fern green eyes looked to him in heartfelt relief, before speaking with soft words filled with conviction.

"Knew you 'd find me."

Vin looked away, knowing he would have never have given up the search for Chris, even if it took him the rest of his life. He pulled out his hunting knife, knowing they still had to get out of there alive. Yet, as he sliced through the ropes binding Chris's ankles to the bedstead, Vin gave a silent curse, wishing he had struck Silas a little harder as he caught sight of the soles of Chris's feet.

He made no remark to Chris but it was obvious to Vin that Chris would not be able to move fast. In turn, Chris made no mention of the pain as he swept his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet on the floor but Vin knew Chris well enough to read the tightening of his eyes and lips as he tried to conceal the pain. He accepted Vin's arm, his face becoming even paler as he put all his weight onto his feet, and Vin could sense the reluctance to release that grip but that did not stop Chris from standing alone. Vin pulled the black sheet from the bed and sliced a hole in the center to form a crude poncho. While Chris pulled it on, Vin tore a strip from another sheet for Chris to use as a belt, and then tore off several more strips to gag and tie up Silas, knowing this might buy them a little extra time.

Then he made a decision for both of them by dragging Chris's arm over his shoulder so he could help support Chris's weight. It meant he would be severely hampered should they meet with any of Silas's men but there seemed to be little choice if they were to move quickly.

"Can walk, Vin," Chris said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, but humor me."

After a moment's hesitation, Chris bowed to the inevitable, knowing Vin could be more stubborn than he could on occasion, and they did not have the time to stand around arguing about it. He leaned into Vin. Sparing one last backward glance at Silas, they staggered out of the room and headed down the corridor towards the open window where Vin had sneaked in earlier. Vin was hoping they would be able to get out the same way. He knew Chris would not find it easy but, equally, he knew Chris would not make any complaints.

Vin paused by the open window and checked for any obvious danger before climbing through. He braced himself as he assisted Chris through it as well; leaving him seated on the sill while Vin slithered towards the edge and looked down, not wanting to risk both of their weights on the roof at one time.

Neither Josiah nor Nathan was in sight, or anyone else for that matter, so he beckoned Chris to slither down towards the edge. Making one last sweep of the area, Vin jumped from the roof of the lean-to and landed softly on the dusty earth. He took a single step before hearing a gun cocked almost next to his ear.

"Now don't you make a move... I--"

A soft thud cut off the man's words and Vin glanced over his shoulder to see Josiah's biggest grin.

"Much appreciated, Josiah."

"Figured you might need a hand."

"That I do." Vin looked up to the pale face peering over the edge of the lean-to's roof and spoke just loud enough to be overheard by Chris. "Or rather, Chris needs a hand... and maybe your legs too."

Vin saw the grimace that crossed Chris's face, knowing the man hated to be a burden on anyone, let alone his friends but Chris was nothing if not pragmatic. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his body. He turned onto his stomach and started to drop over the edge, refusing to give into the embarrassment afforded by his loss of dignity. He let his friends support his weight as each man grabbed the underside of one leg just above the knee. They staggered slightly, unbalanced when he let go of the building completely, but quickly stabilized both him and themselves. Chris hissed as his feet touched the ground for the barest moment with greater impact than he had intended before Josiah toppled him over one broad shoulder and lifted him.

"Damn it, Josiah. I can walk," he whispered harshly, finding the prospect of being carried even more humiliating than being supported by his friends. He cursed, again, Turner's thoroughness in hurting his feet, wondering if it had given the sadistic man and his cohorts even greater pleasure to watch him cleaning out the stables on his hands and knees because he could barely stand after the 'punishment'.

Vin pulled his spare gun from its holster and pressed it into Chris's hand.

"Just in case..."

The first rays of a new day had already splintered the pre-dawn darkness as they hurried to where Nathan would be waiting in the shadows of the storage building opposite. From his position draped over Josiah's broad shoulder, Chris could not see ahead of them, but he kept his eyes peeled for anyone following.

"Got to move fast," Vin stated as they drew level, "before Silas's men wake up."

Chris tried to see who else had joined Vin and Josiah on this rescue mission, and then he heard his name whispered anxiously as Josiah eased him back to his feet. His eyes met Nathan's, relief filling him, drawing a grin from him that Nathan echoed as a dark hand dropped onto his shoulder.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Chris."

Chris laid a hand upon Nathan's, squeezing it once in reassurance, and reaffirmation of their friendship, as Nathan tried to hide the concern that quickly replaced the relief. Chris knew both the healer and the friend in Nathan would be desperate to check over his injuries but he knew those injuries were not life threatening and could wait until they had put some distance between them and Silas.

"Let's get out of here."

This time, he refused to allow Josiah to carry him but allowed the bigger man to support him instead. Even so, they clambered up the slight rise at the edge of the ranch with Josiah laboring some under the strain of supporting half of Chris's weight. Nathan hung back, watching their backs for any sign of Silas's men but nothing stirred.

Vin was relieved to see the horses still tethered in the elongating shadows below. He took the lead down the other side of the rise to the horses, his eyes seeking out Rain and the whipped boy. He stopped and frowned, knowing in his gut that something was amiss.

A soft sound to one side had Vin spinning that way, with the mare's leg cocked and aimed ready to fire but a far more intentional sound came from the other side. He froze as a dark skinned man stepped out from the deep shadows, with his forearm wrapped around Rain's neck, holding her before him as a shield.

"Now, I don't reckon you want to see me break this pretty woman's neck, so why don't you toss down them guns."

Four more of Silas's men stepped out and Vin glanced back as Josiah stepped away from Chris to give them both room to maneuver. Vin's eyes met Chris's in dismay but this turned to self-recrimination as he spied the boy standing just behind the man holding Rain. He thought the boy would have been pleased to find a way to escape the brutality he faced here but, instead, he had betrayed them. Vin shook his head, knowing he should never have trusted the kid when Chris's life had been at stake, but aware that Nathan would be feeling ten times worse.

"Where's the other man that runs with you.?"

Vin managed to hide his reaction, only now realizing that Nathan had not followed them over the rise.

"Ain't no one else," he stated firmly, and saw the man flick a look towards the kid as if he was not quite certain whom to believe.

"Nah... you're lying, mister. This here's Silas's kid, an' I trust his word over yours any day of the week."

Vin could not help feeling a little shocked, wondering how any man could have his own flesh and blood whipped so badly but, in some twisted fashion, it explained the irrational loyalty to people who would beat and whip him. Rain struggled against the strong arm holding her, her dark eyes flashing in anger rather than fear, and Vin kept his face impassive, knowing her struggles had a purpose. Her hand was inching towards the wicked blade tucked into the waistband of her skirt.

"It's me you want, Turner. Let her go."

Turner grinned at Chris, his attention moving away from the woman once again.

"Slave's don't give no orders--"

His words cut off with a cry of pain as Rain's hunting knife stabbed into his forearm, and he let go of her, stumbling back a step. Gunfire erupted as Vin, Chris and Josiah took advantage of the momentary confusion. Vin felt the mare's leg jump in his hand as he took out the man to the left of Turner, seeing the others fall as bright red blossomed over their shirts.

Only Turner and the boy remained standing while Rain scrabbled out of easy reach. He saw, too late, the gun Turner had raised towards Chris, knowing instinctively that he could not stop Turner before the man fired, or even get between Chris and that bullet. Time seemed to stretch into eternity as he raised the mare's leg, and then it stopped altogether as Turner straightened, eyes wide in shock and the gun arcing slowly away. A single shot went wide as Turner dropped to his knees, bubbles of blood bursting upon his lips as he mouthed silent words before he toppled forward onto the ground.

Vin looked at the bone-handled knife protruding from Turner's back and then beyond to where Nathan stood in silence, with his arm hanging loose by his side.

"Was thinking... should never have trusted the boy," he said softly. "Should have known better."

The boy in question had dropped to his knees, staring at the men holding guns on him, his blue eyes wide with fear but Rain stepped forward, planting herself between the boy and Nathan.

"He's a frightened boy, Nathan. Scared enough to want to please the man who whipped him so he won't whip him again. And there are other young ones down there that are treated no better than slaves."

"How do you know--?"

"I know because this one," she pointed at Turner's dead body, "was gloating over it while we waited for you to return." She stepped forward and placed her small hand on Nathan's arm. "Those children deserve a better life... and my people can give them that."

"We ain't got time to stand around thinking about it. Them gunshots will have the rest of Silas's men on our trail anytime," Vin reminded them.

"Spent a lot of time in that cellar but enough time outside to get a good idea of how many men Silas has. Can't be more than ten or twelve left in that bunkhouse."

Josiah grinned. "Three to one at worst... sounds like good odds to me."

"Then we'd better go meet them before they figure out where the shots came from... and rescue those children," added Chris softly, earning a grin of agreement from the others. He hobbled off towards his horse, looking back at Nathan with gratitude when he found his clothes and gun belt tied onto the saddle. Quickly, he pulled on his pants and then threw off the overlong, makeshift poncho, knowing it would get in the way once the shooting started. He strapped on his gun, knowing there was no time for more clothing, and then petted the gelding quickly before swinging up into the saddle. He uttered just the faintest grunt of pain as he put his full weight on one foot in the stirrup. Once mounted, he let his feet dangle, knowing he was a good enough horseman to stay in the saddle without using the stirrups.

By then, the others had mounted up too, except for Rain who agreed to watch over the boy, knowing she had no place in the upcoming fight. With a yell, the four men rode back over the rise, firing into the small mass of Silas's men as they raced around looking for the source of the earlier gunfire.

Silas's men were no match for the four protectors, falling back to the ranch house where a bloodied Silas took refuge from the gunfire.

Josiah, Nathan and Vin leapt from their horses, grabbing rifles before taking cover as the gunfight raged on, while Chris used the cover of the storage outhouse to ease down to the ground. Ignoring the pain, he crept towards the corner, and then kneeled down, peering around and firing at one of Silas's men who was stupid enough to stick his head up.

"Don't hit my slave!" Silas yelled as bullets struck the ground and splintered off the wood close to Chris.

Another bullet sang past Vin, splintering the wood close to his head and he aimed his rifle and fired back, hearing the pained cry of a shot finding its mark. He ducked a little lower as another bullet whistled by him. To his right he could hear Josiah rumbling a prayer loud enough to carry across the four of them that the remainder of Silas's men would see good sense and run. To his left he could make out Chris's blond hair and pale-skinned torso, catching the glint of morning sunlight reflecting off the silver studs of Chris's gun belt as he reloaded. Beyond Chris, Vin could see Nathan firing back sporadically as bullets grazed the wood of the trough behind which he had taken cover.

****

Chris grinned as Josiah's prayers were answered, watching as two of Silas's men grabbed horses and rode off, with others quickly following. Silas cursed them, wasting bullets firing at his fleeing men but Chris knew that only respect kept men loyal in the face of death... not fear, which were all Silas and Turner had ever offered.

Knowing he had lost, but unable to accept defeat, Silas stepped out with guns blazing, with every bullet splintering wood and sending up dust plumes around Chris as he sought to take his 'slave' with him into death. Chris stepped into the open, oblivious to the bullets kicking up the dust around him as he slowly took aim and fired. The single bullet pierced Silas's heart... stilling it forever.

The old woman cried out and went to the fallen man, dropping to her knees beside Silas and pulling his head into her lap. Her wails increased as she cried out for her 'boy', and then she fell silent, turning her head until her dark, hate-filled eyes found Chris. Her wizened face creased further as she snarled like a she-wolf, baring what few teeth remained. She started to spit out words in a language unknown to Chris but a single rifle shot tore through her throat.

Chris turned shocked eyes towards the source of that shot but saw no remorse on Nathan's face, only a terrible grief. Dark eyes met his and Chris could see the depth of pain in them.

"Why?"

Nathan made no answer. Instead, he rose to his feet and walked away in deathly silence that had filled the ranch.

****

Once all the gunfire had quieted down, Rain and the boy came to the ranch. Josiah gathered up the half-dozen children and watched as they huddled around their older half-brother, seeing the fairness in each child that spoke of mixed blood, but the similarity ended there for some had lighter skin than others. Some had red hair while others almost as dark as their father. He knew the children were not the product of a single mother but, other than the old woman, he had seen no other women -- white or black -- at the ranch.

Josiah spoke to the older boy gently as Rain held the youngest child; a baby of around six months.

"What's your name, son?"

"Seth."

"That's a good name," Josiah murmured. "Adam and Eve had two sons but one was loved more than the other. In a fit of jealousy, Cain killed his brother, Abel, and then fled... cursed for all time. The Lord took pity on Adam and Eve and blessed them with another son, and they called him Seth... and he was a good man." Josiah paused and looked at the ragtag group of children.

"Where's your mamas?"

"Dead... all of them. My... pa, he said he'd sent them away once he got bored with them... but I followed the last time an' saw what Turner an' his men did before they killed her. Done told Grandma but she said they'd been bad all through an' got what they deserved."

Josiah frowned. "You believe that?"

The boy's lips trembled, making Josiah realize how traumatic it must have been for the boy to witness such a terrible act of violence. Seth nodded but without conviction. Josiah knew that the boy only believed because he had been too afraid to think otherwise. This was the only life he had known, filled with his father's cruelty. Perhaps he believed that this was how everyone lived, having nothing else to compare it to.

Josiah wondered if the Grandma's love had been just as conditional, offered sparingly and clung to by the children in desperation. It was obvious from the whip marks on the boy's back that she'd had little sway over the monster who had been her son -- or not enough love for the children to fight against his brutality. The very fact that Turner had ordered the boy whipped in Chris's place, without any fear of reprisal, was testament to the absence of any paternal feelings Silas might have had for these children. Turner would never have done such a thing without Silas's permission unless he knew Silas would not give a damn one way or the other.

Rain had believed that these children were treated as little more than slaves, perhaps barely tolerated because of their mixed blood, and with the children viewed with as much disdain as their mothers. Looking at these children, Josiah knew her belief was all too real. He looked closely at the oldest boy but he did not have to ask for details of what Turner and his men had done to the woman for the terrible truth lay in the boy's eyes. The least he could do was offer that unfortunate woman a Christian burial.

"Want to show me where they left her?"

"It's a way off towards the red sand canyon."

Josiah let his eyes travel to first Rain and then to Nathan, Chris and Vin, seeing in their eyes a shadow of grief for these unknown women, and an agreement to help him ensure those women rested in peace.

Rain spoke softly to the children. "I come from a small village, and you can come live with us. No one will beat you there, or whip you ."

****

Working in silence, Nathan checked Chris's feet but he could see there was nothing he could do to ease them. The bruising was days old and would fade in time... as long as Chris stayed off his feet and gave them time to recover. He contemplated insisting on Chris traveling in one of the wagons but even a mention of the wagon brought an expression of distaste crossing the handsome face.

On his first sight of Chris since the shantytown, he had been worried. He had never seen Chris looking so pale, as if a fever had taken him, robbing him of the healthy glow brought on by sunlight. Apart from his damaged feet and some malnutrition... as if half-starved... Chris seemed to be in good health, certainly better than his pallor indicated. Nathan frowned, looking back at the wagon and then recalling the dark cellar where extinguishing the single oil lamp would have plunged it into complete darkness. He thought of his days as a house servant at his former master's plantation, remembering Master Jackson's admonishments to his daughters to stay out of the sun lest they become as brown and coarse as the slaves who worked the cotton fields.

The thought made him shudder as he considered his own fascination with Chris's pale skin beneath the layers of his clothing. Then he relived his last image of Chris, standing naked with a noose around his neck, already glowing as white as a ghost even before the short drop that would end his life.

Could this be the reason Silas bought him? he thought wildly.

Nathan had been brought up as a house slave but it was obvious to him that Silas would have worked in the fields. As it was disrespectful for any 'civilized' man to be seen without clothing, there could have been few occasions when Silas had seen a naked white man - if at all. Could he have wanted Chris purely because of the color of his skin?

Memories of the distant past returned full force and he saw, again, the frenzied figures dancing around a blazing fire while the mambo called out her prayers to the Haitian gods. He saw her offering the blood sacrifice of a chicken to Eshu, the trickster, before calling upon another of the Orisha, knowing that none would answer her call unless she pleased Eshu first.

Nathan shuddered once more as he heard, again, the start of those ritual words from the old woman as she offered up the blood of her slain son, Silas, to Eshu. The hatred in her eyes attested to the nature of her intent to invoke a curse upon Chris, perhaps calling upon Ogoun, the god of war, to take swift vengeance upon him. Nathan could not let that happen, the old dark fears returning from those terrible days of enslavement, so he had silenced her swiftly.

He looked up at Chris and found the soft green eyes narrowed in confusion, wishing he could explain the sudden superstitious paranoia that had overtaken him.

"Had my reasons, Chris," he said quietly, "though I don't expect you to understand."

He looked up as Vin handed Chris the rest of his clothing, taken from where Nathan had bundled them onto Chris's horse. There had been no chance for Chris to fully dress earlier due to the danger presented by Silas and the remainder of his men, but now they had plenty of time. Nathan watched as Chris pulled on his clothes. Strong fingers replaced the gun belt and tied it down and then Chris put on his flat-brimmed hat before looking back at Nathan.

"Let's get out of here."

Despite Chris's impatience to leave the ranch and all its horror behind him, it took another three hours before they were ready to go. Josiah had insisted on burying the dead, quickly digging a mass grave while Vin and Nathan took a wagon back over the rise to collect the bodies of Turner and the others. Assisted by Seth, Rain collected together the children's few belongings and then cooked enough to feed both children and men, determined that they would not ride away on empty stomachs.

Once they had buried Silas and his men, along with the old woman, Josiah took off his hat and mumbled a few words over the single, large grave, though none but Seth stayed to listen. Josiah placed a big hand carefully onto the boy's shoulder, aware that the boy must have seen some good times. Moments when his grandmother, or even his father, had showed some love or compassion for him or his half-siblings.

In the meantime, Nathan and Vin emptied the ranch house of anything valuable for the children, loading it onto one of the two wagons, and then they placed all the children into the other wagon.

Chris watched all of this from a distance, accepting that the only task he could take on at this time was lookout.

Although they had driven the remainder of Silas's men off, there was no guarantee that they would not regroup and come back to claim whatever they could lay their hands on now Silas and Turner were dead. However, nothing stirred for miles around, though Chris figured that the sooner they got moving, the better for all concerned. He wanted to put a fair distance between them and the ranch before nightfall.

Chris tipped back his head for a moment and allowed the sun's hot rays to caress his face. It felt so good to be out in sunlight after so many days spent in darkness. He grinned when he saw the others making final preparations to move out, with some of his restlessness dissipating as he waited for them.

Nathan tied his horse to the back of one wagon alongside Rain's pony, before clambering up to take the driver's reins while the Seminole woman sat next him on the bench. Chris knew the two had plenty to talk about, secretly hoping that they would be able to overcome the emotional tangle caused by Chris's single moment of companionable need with Nathan back in that shantytown. He had never meant to cause a rift between the two, knowing how much Nathan loved Rain, and seeing them seated side by side gave him some hope that they would work things out. A small part of him hoped that some good might come of all this and that Nathan would finally admit his deeper feelings for the woman and make her his wife.

As to his own problems, there had been no opportunity to find out how Vin felt about him following on from this incident, especially considering the position he had been in when Vin found him. Certainly, Vin had not balked at touching him, willingly supporting him as they escaped from the ranch house. Still, Chris had noticed the quick glances Vin threw at him from time to time, unable to read the emotions from a distance and hoping that they would find a chance to talk about it. Josiah had been a little uneasy too, mentioning that Rain had gone into the shantytown looking for a direction to start looking for him. Someone could have told her what had happened between him and Nathan, but there was always a chance that Nathan had disputed any claims made by those people.

But what if Nathan had not denied the truth? What if he had told them what had passed between them, and how the landlady, bringing in a jug of clean water for washing, had caught them in bed together? Even if she had not caught Chris with his bare chest pressed against Nathan's equally naked back, then the stickiness on the sheets and the pungency of freshly-spilled semen would have given them away.

If Nathan had exposed their sin then, Vin might ride off as soon as they reached the safety of the town, before giving Chris the opportunity to explain what had happened that night.

Ain't no changing what happened, he thought savagely, uncertain if he wanted to lie to Vin, even though it might be the only way he could save their friendship.

Chris watched as Josiah took the reins of the second wagon, his attention then turning to Vin Tanner as he mounted his spirited gelding. A tiny smile snagged at Chris's lips as Vin sent the horse cantering up the slight rise towards him with the lazy smile on Vin's face allaying some of Chris's fears. He tugged on the reins and set off with Vin riding by his side, almost close enough to reach out and touch, with both of them leading the small wagon train.

****

They had been traveling for about thirty minutes when Seth snagged Nathan's sleeve and pointed towards an outcrop of rocks left standing long after the winds had eroded the sandstone surrounding them. Nathan pulled the team of horses to a halt and called out to Chris and Vin, waiting for them to ride back. He indicated towards the rocks and then jumped down from the wagon, walking round the back to his horse. He offered a hand down to the boy, pulling him up onto his horse behind him. Josiah had mounted too and, leaving Rain watching over the smaller children, the four men and Seth rode off.

With ease, Vin found the shallow grave that seemed to house all the bodies but he knew right away that he had not been the only creature to track these women down. He saw signs of where coyotes had tried to dig up the bodies to feast on the meat before it spoiled under the hot sun, knowing they'd had varying degrees of success in their endeavor by the bones scattered around.

He stood and watched as Josiah began to pick up the few bones that could be recovered, placing them into the communal grave, knowing that some bones would be lost forever in the desert, carried away by the coyotes. Nathan helped Josiah, picking up a small skull and fingering the hole through the side, leaving no one with any doubt that Turner, or one of his men, had shot this woman after having their way with her.

Once they had gathered what bones they could find scattered nearby, Josiah and Nathan began to pick up small rocks to lie over the grave. They all knew there was little point in checking for any identity on the bodies for Turner's men would have stripped them of all possessions.

When Seth began to help them, Vin snapped out of the morbidity that had kept him still. He dropped from his horse and sought out small rocks to pile onto the grave, looking up only once with his eyes meeting Chris's across the small cairn. Frustration filled those eyes, mixed with a little despair for the wanton cruelty perpetrated upon these women and their children. Vin could see tightness around Chris's eyes and mouth as Chris fought against the pain in his feet to help them cover the grave. He knew Chris was too stubborn to stand back and let the rest of them work, not wanting to admit to his weakness, but it was part of what he loved about the man.

Loved?

His hand faltered as he placed another rock on the growing pile. Quickly covering his momentary lapse, Vin reached for another stone but, all the while, his mind mulled over that single word: love.

Is this what he felt for Chris? Was it more than just a simple desire to have this man in his bed as well as by his side? In truth, Vin had never met anyone who could affect him so deeply, spinning his world around so often that it made him dizzy just thinking about him. He thought about the black rage that had filled him on seeing Chris trussed up and about to be raped, accepting that he would have been equally affected had it been Nathan, or Buck or Ezra or... He blew out a shaky breath, knowing there had been more than rage but jealousy too. He had not wanted *anyone* to touch Chris... not even Nathan.

"Vin?"

Josiah's deep voice pierced the fog in his brain, and he shook his head in reassurance, hoping Josiah would connect his sudden preoccupation with the terrible fate of these women rather than the man standing close by.

Once they had protected what remained of these women, they stood back and watched as Josiah pulled a crude cross from his horse, one he had fashioned quickly from wood taken from Silas's ranch. He had carved a few simple words into the surface: Rest in Peace. Vin removed his hat, holding the brim in both hands, and bowed his head when Josiah took off his hat to say a few words. Glancing sideways, he saw Chris standing close with his head bowed too, and wondered what thoughts were swimming through his friend's mind.

Vin turned his thoughts away from his possessiveness of Chris and centered on the lonely grave but, still, thoughts of Chris invaded as he wondered if Silas's men would have buried Chris in this same spot, once Silas had tired of using his body. He wondered if Turner and his men would have abused Chris the same way as they had these women, raping his body before putting a bullet through his skull. Vin forced those ugly and frightening thoughts aside, concentrating, instead, on the prayer Josiah offered for the souls of these unfortunate women.

They returned to the wagons in silence and set off immediately, not wanting to linger close to the lonely outcrop.

****

It was fully dark when they finally called a halt and built a camp for the night, quickly cooking a meal that was devoured eagerly by adult and child alike. Rain mashed up food for the youngest child, hand feeding the little girl before changing her soiled clothing and then rocking her sleep. All the while, she watched as Chris helped to settle the other children while Josiah and Nathan took the first watch.

Nathan had once told her that Chris had been both a husband and father, losing his wife and child to an act of violence that had traumatized the man for a long time. Certainly, his easy and gentle way with the children showed that he must have been a good and loving father, making his loss all the more tragic, but it was hard to relate this tender husband and father with the man who had lain with *her* man only a week or so earlier.

If he had loved his wife so much, then how could he have found comfort within the harder angles and planes of another man's body?

The campfire caught the lightness of his hair, turning it to burnished gold and reminding her of a picture she had seen in the book of a traveling missionary. He looked like an angel and, in the darkness, she could almost believe that he might have wings folded up behind him, their shape hidden the shadows. His pale skin glowed with an ethereal light, as if he did not belong to this world.

Did he love Nathan? Did Nathan love him?

She placed the sleeping baby into the makeshift crib. Then, her eyes sought out and found Nathan's figure among the rocks overlooking the small encampment, catching the outline of his strong body against the starlight for a moment before he became lost in the deep shadows. She loved him, of that she had no doubt, but now she wondered if he had ever loved her in return. There was a time not long ago when his eyes had said so, and so had his words even though he had never stated 'I love you ' aloud, but now she wondered if all she had seen and heard was her own desire rather than his.

Rain looked down at the sleeping baby, wishing she could have retained the same innocence, and had never learned of that night in the shantytown. Her lips tightened as she recalled her journey to the town a few months back. Another of the Seminole had asked for her hand in marriage, and she had traveled to the town to see Nathan, unwilling to accept that offer while there might be a chance of giving her hand to Nathan instead. He had accompanied her partway back, talking a little of the time he had spent as a slave and of some of the fears that had never lost their grip. All through that shared journey, she believed he was vocalizing the love he held for her, and that belief had given her the strength to turn down the marriage proposal, willing to wait a little longer for Nathan.

What if she had been wrong? What if he did not want her, preferring, instead, the hard angles and pale flesh of this white man?

They had sat side by side on the wagon though half a day without any meaningful words passing between them, but know she needed to know where she stood with him. She needed to know if her wait for him was in vain, not wishing to spend the rest of her life alone.

The children were asleep and so, silently, she climbed to her feet and drifted towards the rocks where Nathan sat. He turned on hearing her, relaxing and then tensing again as he caught her expression bathed in starlight. She heard a soft, resigned sign fall from his lips as then he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Not gonna apologize for what I did with Chris... but maybe I can explain why."

"I don't need any explanations. All I need to know is this. Do you still want him?" She left the remainder of her words unspoken, but they hung between her and Nathan nonetheless.

Nathan turned away to glance down into the camp where Chris's shadow could be seen, seated alone just outside the circle of light thrown out by the fire. He smiled sadly, as he watched Vin sit down close to Chris.

"He's a good man, Rain. A good friend too, an' I won't lie an' say I didn't want his touch." His dark eyes sought hers. "Truth is... I ain't been with too many women. Too scared to get too close in case they were sold on, like my mama." He sighed, looking away for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, before turning back. "If you're really asking 'do I love him' then... Yeah. I love him... but it ain't the same way I love you . Love him like a good friend, like a brother, an' with all my heart." He swallowed hard. "But I love you with more than just my heart. Love you with all my soul too."

"Then marry me, Nathan. Make me your wife."

All the worry on his handsome face disappeared beneath a brilliant smile of relief and pleasure. "Sounds good to me." He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and kissed her, moaning his pleasure into her mouth as the kiss deepened.

Rain held him tightly as all her fears evaporated within his heated embrace.

****

Chris shifted back from the glow of the fire until he blended into the shadows just outside the circle of light. He watched, covertly, as Rain made her way up the rocks to where Chris had spotted Nathan taking a perch maybe an hour before. He knew the two had plenty to talk about, silently wishing he had not come between the pair. He had never intended for his and Nathan's single moment of passion to be anything more than that, merely wanting the companionship and security of a friend for a few pleasurable minutes rather than the feigned delights of a local whore.

Too often, he had paid for company, finding a willing body to sink into and then lying back afterwards, feeling emptier than he had before entering the room. Often, their warm bodies were only slightly more pleasurable than his solitary hand, easing his physical need for companionship yet only temporarily fooling him into believing he was with someone who cared as much for him as for the dollars he had laid on the bedside table.

Maybe some of them did care. Certainly, both Maria and Lydia had paid more attention to his needs than a few dollars warranted from a working girl. However, he had felt nothing for them in return, beyond the temporary relief gained inside their welcoming flesh.

With Buck, in the past, and then with Nathan, there had been more than just physical pleasure, more than just a momentary release to satisfy an itch. He loved both men as brothers... and he had felt loved and cherished in return. With Buck, the emptiness had abated for a while as they basked in the afterglow and in their friendship, and once he knew Nathan wanted his touch, he had hoped for that same feeling of companionship and security with him. Even so, he knew that both men could only offer him a temporary respite from the loneliness that had plagued him for most of his life.

Only Sarah had alleviated that loneliness beyond the few moments of comfort snatched during sex. Her love had filled his empty days as well as his nights, and when she died, he believed he would never experience the totality of love ever again. He thought he might have found another love in Ella Gaines, and he shuddered now at the very thought of what he had been prepared to give up for that false hope.

Only one person since Sarah had come close to giving him what he needed, and that person was Vin Tanner. However, Chris had not wanted to lose the comfort of Vin's daily presence by asking to sleep with him too. In all the time he had known Vin, he had never seen him look at any man with interest. In contrast, Vin had been prepared to incur the wrath of a husband, and the disappointment of his friends, in order to be with Charlotte Richmond.

Chris understood what had made Vin turn around and come back that day, for friendship was a powerful element, especially when those same friends were in danger. What he did not understand was why he had stayed afterwards. Vin had never spoken of it, and Chris had not presumed upon their friendship to ask.

As if conjured up by his thoughts, Vin appeared close by and sat down, staring into the flickering firelight. The silence between them, always so companionable in the past, now seemed strained. He flicked his glance sideways and caught Vin staring at him, seeing a strange expression on the man's face that spoke of anger and disappointment.

"Expect you're disappointed in me," Chris said quietly, understanding how it must have felt for Vin to discover that his 'friend' enjoyed sex with other men.

"Some what," came the terse response. Vin threw a small stick into the fire and they both watched as the wood crackled, spitting out sparks that danced in the night air for a moment before the fire settled back down. The air grew heavier, laden down with unspoken words.

"Best spit it out before you choke on it, Vin."

The silence lengthened as the air surrounding them grew heavier still, unlike Vin broke the silence with a harsh whisper.

"Why Nathan?"

Chris reeled back in shock at the vehemence in Vin's words. Until now, he had believed Vin to be one of the most accepting people he had ever met, seeing beyond skin color, and beliefs, to the inner core of a person.

"Never figured on you being prejudiced," he said tightly, feeling sickened by this new revelation of a man he thought he knew so well. Chris made to stand up, intending to walk away before he was physically sick but Vin's hand reached out and snagged his sleeve.

"Hell, Chris. That ain't it. Ain't got nothing against the color of his skin, or even what you did with Nathan... just the fact that is *was* Nathan..." His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper, "...an' not me."

Vin felt shocked at his anger at Chris. All through the search, after hearing Nathan's confession of what had taken place to trigger the whole event, he had alternated between anger and the possibility of declaring his love for the man. So many different scenarios had played through his head, where he had offered himself to Chris: heart, soul, body and mind. During those daydreams, he had pushed all his fears aside, unwilling to conceive of the possibility that Chris might not want him in return. Now that the moment had come to make his interest known, all those fears -- and the anger and resentment too -- had exploded into his mind.

Chris had lain with Nathan, finding pleasure in his arms, and offering Nathan both his touch and his body.

Why had he never made those desires known to Vin?

Vin huffed in annoyance, knowing that was not strictly true. Yes... Chris had made the first move with Nathan, but if Nathan was right then it was only in the belief that Nathan was asleep and, therefore, unaware of the desire coursing through Chris. According to Nathan, Chris had pulled away as soon as he realized that he was awake, and only Nathan's insistence had brought Chris's hand back to share in their mutual passion.

Vin turned until he faced Chris full on, his eyes studying the lithe, dark-clad frame that was barely visible in the deepening shadows. Firelight glinted back from the wide, green eyes, and from the white teeth visible between the surprise-parted lips.

Surprise turned to dismay, the eyes closing in bitter defeat for a battle lost before it could even begin.

"Always wanted it to be you , Vin," came a soft reply. "Just too scared to take a chance you might not feel the same way. Didn't want to see you turn away from me in disgust. Too late now, I guess."

It was Vin's turn to feel both surprise and shock, hearing an echo of his fears in the softly spoken words. How often had he pulled back from making his feelings for Chris known, worried that Chris might turn away from him in disgust?

He chuckled, bitterly, as he realized they had been dancing around each other for years with neither of them willing to take that final step for fear of losing all they had. But was it too late to salvage something from this mess? Vin swallowed hard, and cleared his throat before taking in and letting out a deep, shuddering breath.

"Never too late, Chris."

The green eyes opened, staring straight into Vin's as if trying to read the truth in them. Vin realized he must have found it, judging by the way his eyes lost their regret, softening as a smile raised the corners of his generous mouth.

They both knew there was nothing they could do about this newfound facet to their relationship at this time, beyond reaching for each other and sealing their friendship with a familiar forearm grip. Vin tightened his hold on the lean yet strongly muscled arm, wishing he could pull Chris forward and take those smiling lips in their first kiss. Instead, he pulled back, releasing Chris but letting the promise of a future show in his eyes.

****

It was the last night before reaching the Seminole village and once they had fed and settled the children, Chris sank back down close to the fire. The long days in the saddle had left him feeling sore, especially as he spent most of the ride with his feet dangling out of the stirrups, never more grateful for the choice he had made in his horse. The gelding was strong and fast, but with a far gentler spirit than Vin's horse, and far less skittish too.

Chris recalled the day he had traveled into Mexico, all those years ago. His intention had been to buy a stallion, but none suited his purpose. None had the strength, stamina and beauty that he had wanted to breed into his string of horses. He had been about to turn and ride away when he saw this horse. Immediately, he had wished he had found him before he was gelded, knowing he would have made a fine sire on the horse ranch he had been building with Sarah. Out of curiosity, Chris had approached the corral, clicking softly and holding out a small treat that he had kept in his pocket.

They had taken to each other from the outset, and Chris had never regretted his decision to buy this horse purely for riding the range. Since that day, they had seen some good times -- and many bad times too, yet this horse had never let him down. He had never tried to throw him once the bullets started flying, or strayed too far when Chris dismounted and sent him galloping out of danger while he sought cover.

His horse always seemed to know whenever Chris was injured and, this time, he had kept his pace gentle, avoiding the worst dips in the dusty ground so Chris could balance far more easily, and more comfortably. Keeping the weight off the soles of his feet over these last few days had given them the welcome respite they needed. Combined with Nathan's poultices to draw out the bruising, Chris knew he would be on his feet and walking without pain within just a few more days.

His thoughts remained on Nathan and the silence that had grown between them as each avoided mentioning the two events that had re-shaped their relationship over these past weeks.

It had come as a surprise to learn from Vin that he and Nathan had shared a bed one time, even though it partly explained why Vin never paid mind to the whores in town, or left to seek female company elsewhere. Chris closed his eyes for a moment and imagined his two friends lying together. He could visualize Vin's honey-colored skin next to Nathan's darker flesh, and he could see Nathan's long fingers carding through the long curls as dark eyes met blue before mouths met eagerly.

Chris sighed softly in exasperation. How could he have missed this? How could he have not seen the gentleness existing between the two men when it was so apparent now?

When he looked back through the years of *his* friendship with Vin -- with fresh eyes -- Chris could see all the moments when Vin had practically screamed his love and desire for *him*. How could he have been so blind?

Because you see only what you want to see, he thought miserably.

There had been a time when he thought Vin was sweet on Mary and, with shame, Chris realized that his interest in her had been at its highest then. In hindsight, he knew that some crazy, mixed up desire to be closer to Vin, and not Mary, had increased his interest in her. Once Vin's apparent interest in the beautiful widow faded, so did Chris's, until he was more than relieved when Mary started looking elsewhere for a new husband.

He learned, much later, that Mary had been teaching Vin to read but town gossip had forced her to give up that schooling. Nathan had taken over the role of teacher instead, and now Chris wondered what other lessons Nathan had taught Vin in the privacy of the clinic.

Part of him felt disgusted at his petty jealousy. After all, Vin had said it had been only one time with Nathan. Also, his own actions had made it seem so clear that his interest only lay with women. If the string of whores -- from Lydia to Maria -- had not confirmed that to Vin, then his decision to marry Ella and stay with her would have set the final seal on it. The fact that he had not truly loved -- or even wanted -- any one of them of those women was immaterial.

He snorted softly. Fear of losing their friendship, through wanting more than the other could offer, had stopped them both from seeing the truth.

Chris felt that little black spot of jealousy dissolve away. He knew Vin had merely sought comfort where he could, and out of the same brotherly love for Nathan that had fueled *his* desire for Nathan that night in the shantytown.

Having resolved this issue in his mind, Chris turned his attention to a more pressing dilemma. He replayed the final scene with Silas in his mind once more, seeing the old woman drop to her knees beside the dead body of her son. He could hear her wails of grief as she searched for life in the sightless eyes, and then all had fallen deadly quiet as she turned to him in hatred before those strange words began to fall from her seamed lips.

'Had my reasons, Chris,' Nathan had said quietly, 'though I don't expect you to understand.'

What reason could there be for murdering the old woman? Chris could admit that it was possible Nathan had seen a glint that could have been light reflecting off a gun, or perhaps he had seen her reaching for the one that had fallen from Silas's dead fingers. Still, there had been no need to shoot to kill. It was as if Nathan had deliberately shot her through the throat to silence the strange, hate-filled words spilling from her.

Afterwards, there had been no remorse in the dark eyes even though it was plain to see that Nathan had hated what he had done. If Chris could have likened it to anything, then it would have been to the time he had been forced to put a bullet through the brain of his old horse after it broke a leg. However, no one would want to hang him for putting a horse out of its misery and pain, but killing an old woman in cold blood was far different.

He glanced up as Josiah came over -- a bottle of whiskey in hand -- and Chris waited as the older man sat down beside him.

"Know a troubled man when I see one, Chris. Want to share the load?"

Chris debated this for a moment, uncertain if he wanted to raise a subject that had him all twisted up inside. When he took on the role of a regulator for Judge Travis, he had sworn to bring justice to the town, and that had to apply to everyone, no matter if they were friend or foe. Yet, Nathan was more than just a friend, and the thought of handing him over to the Judge to face trial for murder -- in the same way as his father, Obediah -- left a bitter taste in Chris's mouth.

Perhaps if he had been blameless in this affair then he might have rested a little easier. However, Chris knew that *he* was equally guilty of breaking the territorial laws just by taking another man in his bed, and so were Nathan, Vin and even Buck. In some places, such a crime would be punishment by tar and feathers -- and by that, he was not thinking of the cold tar they had smeared over Ezra that day. It would be boiling hot tar and dirty feathers that stuck fast, spreading infection into the horrendous burns and leading to a painful death. Other towns would see 'the deviant' stripped and publicly humiliated before being hanged or sent to prison to be used and abused by other inmates.

Chris was no less guilty of breaking the law than Nathan and, if anything, some people would consider lying with another man more heinous than murder.

He looked at the ex-preacher, only then aware that Josiah had to know the worst of him and yet his blue eyes still displayed compassion and friendship, and no condemnation. Having once been a man of the cloth, Josiah should have been the most disgusted with what he had learned of his friends, denouncing them before God and all mankind. Chris accepted Josiah's lack of condemnation in silence, deciding to say nothing unless Josiah spoke of it first.

"The old woman," he said softly, knowing Josiah would understand.

Josiah hummed in deliberation, nodding his head slowly as he rubbed one large hand over his chin thoughtfully. "That's a true dilemma, Chris, and each of us must decide the right and wrong of it." He looked across, the intelligence in his eyes piercing straight into Chris. "But maybe I can help you understand a little better."

Chris waited as Josiah moved forward and poured them both some coffee and then added a large splash of whiskey. As he sat back, after handing Chris a whiskey-laced coffee, Chris hoped that this would not be one of Josiah's obscure lessons where he would have to decipher the meaning from the riddles; he was too tired for riddles.

"For all my traveling, I've never been further south than Chihuahua, Mexico, or further north than Billings in Montana. Never been to China or Africa. My father was a missionary, and he wandered across this land seeking out heathens to convert to the paths of the Lord. Worked with the Chinese in San Francisco... which is where I picked up a little skill in the language." He grinned at this, aware that his Chinese had been sorely lacking in skill on the day the railroad passed close to the town. "Then, just before the war and before I took to the cloth, we headed into the South."

"That's when I lost respect for my father. A man no different to the Reverend Mosely, looking down on all the colored folk with a firm belief that, no matter if they were converted or not, they would never be an equal to white folks. He used to watch them slaving in the fields, listening to them sing praises to all the different saints, and he figured he had no one there to convert. Wouldn't look beneath the surface no more than the slave owners. They all ignored the occasional singing and dancing round blazing fires, deciding a rooster with its neck slit was just a theatrical re-enactment of the Last Supper, with chicken instead bread and wine."

He paused for a moment in seeming remembrance.

"I delved a little deeper, and discovered most weren't Christian at all. Just disguised their own religion with ours so they could carry on praising their gods without the wrath of the 'decent Christian folk' who owned them. Hoodoo, Vodun, Vodou... all of them religions came with the slaves from Africa. Just different forms of the same religion. Changed by circumstance, necessity and the blend of other cultures."

"What's this got to do with Nathan and the old woman?"

Josiah smiled wryly. "The old woman was a mambo... a priestess of one of them religions. Most of them are healers, looking after the sick of body or mind, so they'd consider Nathan a Hougan, a priest, because of his healing skills. But now and then, they'd be one who preferred the darker forces of nature... bringing fear, pain and death to others."

Chris thought about the harsh words the old woman had uttered, not needing to understand them to know she was cursing him. But he had been cursed plenty of times before in his own tongue so what difference did it make if spoken in another language? Josiah seemed to pick up on this thought.

"She could have cursed you in a hundred different religions and Nathan would have been fine, but he grew up with this one... seeing the good and the bad. Believing in it. So much mystery surrounding it, but he'd have seen cursed men and women falling sick and dying. Probably poisoned... but who's to say?"

"What he did was still murder, no matter the reason."

Josiah leaned in and touched Chris's sleeve. "If it had been Vin shooting dead an old medicine man bent on revenge, would it still be murder then?"

Chris grimaced, suddenly aware of his own prejudices that would never have questioned Vin's actions. Not because he trusted Vin more than Nathan but because of the stories he grew up with, where Indians posed a threat to home and family. How many tales of horror had he heard as a child? Of homesteads razed to the ground, the men tortured, and the women raped and murdered... with the younger children taken into a form of white slavery within the tribes.

As an adult, he knew that it had not been so black and white. He knew both sides had told lies and committed atrocities, often precipitating the wars and attacks. However, the fears instilled at an early age lived on deep inside despite his belief that he had overcome them, and he realized the same could be said for Nathan.

For right or wrong, Nathan had killed her out of a genuine belief that she was about to do harm to a friend, and Chris could not find it in him to question that belief. It still sat uneasily with him, of what the gentle healer had been prepared to do to save him from harm -- imaginary or not.

He sighed and took another sip of the whiskey-laced coffee, feeling the heat of the alcohol as it sank into his belly and warmed him from the inside. There had been a gun, and the old woman could have been reaching for it, or might even have had it in her hand, preparing to kill him once she had spat out her curse. There was no reason to question otherwise, especially as -- judging by happiness glowing on Rain's face -- it was unlikely that Nathan would remain with them in the town for much longer.

Even without him leaving, the days of the Seven were numbered. First by the railroad that brought more and more people to the town, and then by the change in politics that saw the territory moving swiftly towards statehood, bringing in new laws and lawmen. Within a few more months, they would no longer be required, and though he had been preparing for this day by slowly building a horse ranch outside of the town, it felt like the end of another part of his life.

Chris glanced over to where he knew Vin Tanner would be sitting in the shadows, keeping watch over them. Perhaps it was the end of *this* part of his life, but Vin had given him hope for the rest.

****

Tastanagi was waiting for them as the wagons rolled into the village, and before his attention turned to the children, Vin could see the relief in his eyes that both Chris and Nathan were safe. Vin knew that Tastanagi had held a soft spot for Chris from the time the Seven had saved his village, seeing him as a surrogate son for the one he had lost that day. The fact that Chris was a white man meant nothing to Tastanagi, for his people had learned to see beyond skin color since that day, welcoming the person rather than their race into their hearts.

Nathan also held a place in Tastanagi's heart. His healing skills had saved many of the villagers during the battle with the ghosts of the Confederacy -- and he made Rain happy. Vin could guess that Tastanagi had a secret hope that Nathan would become part of his people one day soon, and looking at the pair now, Vin knew that time had come. The days of the Seven were over. This incident had given Nathan the push he needed to cast away the fears of his past and reach for the future. It would come as no shock to Vin if Nathan made the same announcement that Chris had made about Ella Gaines all those months ago, though Vin would celebrate this marriage to Rain rather than ride off in search of ways to prove it was a bad decision.

He wondered what would become of them all now. Initially, they had agreed to stay for thirty days but almost three years had passed since then. He could see Nathan raising a family in this village with Rain, and making it the home he had never truly found before. The town would miss his healing skills for a while but Vin had no doubt that a new doctor would arrive before too long, brought by the railroad that passed only an hour's ride away from the town.

Since revealing the reason for his need for penance, Josiah had found greater peace of mind. Sharing the load with his friends had given him the strength to accept that he was not wholly responsible for his sister's condition. He had carried the guilt around for many years, with it escalating after she succumbed to a disease brought on by her loose morals. Vin had spoken to Nathan about the nature of the disease she had contracted, so he knew it was only a matter of time before she died. Vin thought about the promise he had made to Josiah, meaning to accompany him to Vista City, to be there for his friend, when the inevitable had happened. Vin did not intend to break that promise despite the new turn in his relationship with Chris.

His thoughts turned to Buck Wilmington.

For the first time in his life, Buck was in love rather than in lust. Already he had started to change his roving ways by smartening his dress and taking more interest in what was happening in the world outside of the small town. The Governor's aide, Louisa, had changed Buck where so many other women had failed, although Vin suspected that Hilda had started that transformation in him all those months ago.

After resigning from her position on the Territorial Governor's staff, Louisa decided to stay in the town for a while but Vin knew she had aspirations beyond settling into a frontier town, and Buck was ready to follow her wherever she might lead.

As for Ezra, after that life-changing experience with Stutz blood money, where he had almost succumbed to greed and ridden off with the ten thousand dollars, Ezra had found his own peace. He had started to invest in the town with a view to staying permanently and building a real home there, much to his mother's dismay. What he had not mentioned, though, was that he had been corresponding regularly with the Chinese girl that he had saved almost a year back.

Her uncle had planned to sell her as a prostitute, needing the money to buy opium, and Nathan persuaded Ezra to save her from that fate. Originally, he had given Li Pong enough money to return to her family in San Francisco. However, Ezra had confided in Vin, while very much the worse for drinking, that her family could not afford to keep her much longer and were planning to send her back to her uncle. With all his defenses down, Vin had seen what so many others had missed, that Ezra was in love with Li Pong.

That night Vin convinced him to send her a rail ticket and bring her back to the town, where she might at least have an opportunity to find a better life than the one her uncle planned for her. Fully sober, Ezra had confided in him again only a week later, that he had sent that ticket, so Vin knew Li Pong could be in the town by now.

That left only the Kid, but JD was no longer a greenhorn, having seen and done too much to retain *all* that wide-eyed innocence. He seemed to have given up his dream of joining the Texas Rangers, preferring to stay close to the six men who had become older brothers in all but blood. However, if everyone started to drift away, then Vin wondered whether JD would leave too. Vin hoped not as JD had matured well, becoming far more responsible and knowledgeable. In Vin's eyes, JD no longer needed as much support from the others, and Vin hoped the Judge would see that too, and appoint him to the role of sheriff permanently. Certainly, the town could do far worse than JD.

He knew JD was still sweet on Casey so, if he stayed, then it would not be long before he started courting her. That thought made Vin smile as he imagined seeing Nettie fussing over a bunch of dark-haired demons who shared too many of JD and Casey's more enthusiastic traits.

Because he loved the others as more than simply friends, Vin could only hope they would all be happy in whatever life they chose. For his own happiness, though, Vin knew he needed only Chris Larabee.

Chris had known this time would come, when the town would no longer need the Seven to protect it, which is why he had bought the land close to the town and built that smallholding. However, Vin had a feeling that he had a long way to go before he could call that place home... if ever. When Ella had offered Chris her hand in marriage - and her ranch, he had not hesitated to accept both, willingly abandoning all that he had built on his land. There had been little contest as Ella's ranch had everything Chris had been striving to build with Sarah, including a sense of home and family.

Even so, Chris had hinted that more than material gain had influenced him that day, and Vin had a strong feeling that *he* had been a major factor in Chris's decision to stay with Ella. He knew his decision to run off with Charlotte Richmond had hurt Chris, perhaps even pushing him into making that bad decision with Ella.

In hindsight, it was so easy to see how they had managed to hide their true feelings from each other, with their silent communication actually working against them. If either had found the courage to speak up sooner then they could have avoided much of the heartache over the past few years.

Vin gave an imperceptible shake of his head, knowing it was foolish to dwell on the past when they had a future stretching out before them. He stepped down from his horse and approached Tastanagi, following on behind Chris and standing at his shoulder just as he had done so many times in the past. It had felt right from the very first day, when they strode down the main street side by side, forging an unlikely bond as they moved as one to save an innocent man from a hanging. It seemed as if destiny was still playing a role in their lives for the person who had brought them together as brothers-in-arms that day, had been the same one to bring them even closer.

They accepted Tastanagi's hospitality, sharing his fire and food, and sitting late into the night talking about all manner of things from old beliefs to the modern world slowly catching up to them all. Eventually, the old man saw that Chris was more tired than he let on, and he bade them goodnight, with one of his people leading Chris and Vin to a dwelling on the edge of the village where they could rest.

Someone had placed fresh kindling into the small cooking grate and, quickly, Vin had a small fire going to heat up the interior for the temperature fell rapidly at night in the desert. Chris dropped his hat onto the small bench set against one wall and Vin watched as he reached for and then lit the small, clay, oil lamp, seeing the orange glow turn Chris's hair to burnished gold. Strong fingers carded through the fine strands of gold in weariness as the long, dusty ride finally caught up with both of them.

Vin stripped off his gun belt, laying it within easy reach, and then he set to work on removing his jacket as the fire took the chill off the air. Surreptitiously, he looked up from time to time to watch Chris undress, eyes latching onto the agile fingers as they made short work of buttons and buckles until Chris stood before him clad only in his underwear.

Someone had already prepared the small adobe and wood hut, laying out two thick straw mattresses, side by side within the small confines of the hut, and covered in warm blankets. Vin stared down at the bed, aware that the individual elements did not have to be so close but he decided not to voice that thought. He wanted those beds to be together, wanted them to become one so he could sleep with Chris by his side.

Vin's eyebrows rose as Chris continued to strip beyond a sense of propriety, tugging off the washed-out pink undershirt and dropping it onto the pile of his clothing on the bench. His head was slightly bowed but his eyes flicked up to meet Vin's, his lips parting in open invitation as he peeled off the final layer of clothing, standing before Vin gloriously nude. Vin lost all sense of time as he stared at the beautiful, lean frame glowing pearlescent in the meager golden light reflecting off his pale flesh. Shadows and light emphasized the firm curve of muscle and bone, catching on scars both faint and fresh that only added to his perfection in Vin's eyes. He watched the glowing eyes widen in open appreciation as Vin stepped out of the last of his garments. He shivered as those eyes caressed his flesh slowly, from head to toe and back again, feeling a new warmth sweep through every nerve, coursing through his blood as he responded to Chris's obvious desire.

His eyes traveled the lean frame, lingering on the small, hardened nipples before following the trail of fine, golden hair southwards to where Chris's beautiful shaft arched upwards in need. A single dewdrop of desire glistened at the tip and before the conscious part of his mind knew what he was doing; Vin had fallen to his knees before Chris, his tongue flicking out to capture the droplet. The taste and essence of this man burst upon his senses, igniting a fire that raged within his body as his hands cupped the milky-white ass cheeks and pulled Chris in closer. He licked the length of the engorged shaft, tongue swirling over the head before he sank down onto it. His teeth scraped along the silken flesh, drawing a shiver and soft cry as Chris's hands gripped at Vin's shoulders and hair. Erratic breathing accompanied the tiny thrusts that Chris could not suppress as Vin sucked and licked on the sensitive flesh. The strong You muscles, clasped in his hands, contracted rhythmically to his sucking and Vin's eyes flicked upwards to watch the rapture cross his lover's face as his senses overloaded, shooting his essence deep into Vin's mouth and throat to be swallowed willingly.

Depleted, Chris sagged against Vin, held up by the strong hands around his hips. He sank to his knees in front of Vin, mouth and tongue seeking Vin's hungrily as he drank his own bittersweet, salty essence from Vin's lips. Vin pulled at Chris until they fell onto the mattress, his hands mapping the planes and valleys of the body he wanted to claim in all ways. Strong hands urged him onto his back and he stretched out in cat-like pleasure as warm hands, and hot lips, heated every inch of his flesh before latching onto a nipple and driving him wild with desire. Tongue and teeth licked and nibbled at the sensitive bud, sending frissons of pain and ecstasy racing though to every nerve ending, and he arched upwards, wanting more.

Time lost all meaning as the assault on all his senses drove him towards insanity, and he gasped as Chris tore away from his nipple to bite and lick a path of fire downwards. Belly muscles quivered excitedly and he groaned loudly as Chris's hot breath bathed his sensitive flesh before the wet heat of his mouth engulfed Vin. His hips bucked off the mattress in a desperate need to bury his flesh inside the torturing mouth and he cursed as Chris's strong hands grabbed his hips, forcing Vin into stillness through strength and the weight of his body. Vin threw his head from side to side, hands clawing to gain a hold of the silken strands of golden hair so he could push Chris down harder.

His nails dragged along Chris's skin when Chris pulled away abruptly; leaving him bereft of the incredible sensations from a far too experienced mouth.

His curses faded to silence, chest heaving as he stared up at beautiful face, watching a droplet of sweat trickle from the tall forehead, down the side of Chris's nose to the corner of blood-flushed and swollen lips. The tip of Chris's tongue snared the droplet before licking along the circumference of his full lips, tongue pausing in the slight dip in the lower lip before completing its circular journey.

"Chris?" Vin croaked before clearing his throat, swallowing hard and trying again. "Chris?"

Had Chris had second thoughts about this? Certainly, his eyes held a pensive quality, as if he was questioning his actions. Vin started to rise, reaching for his would-be lover only to see a smile and then desire replace uncertainty in the darkened eyes. Chris pushed Vin back down, slowly crawling up Vin's body until he straddled Vin's hips. He reached for the tin of gun grease that he must have taken out earlier, scooping out some with two fingers.

Vin's eyes widened when Chris began to ease those grease covered fingers into his own body, eyes glazing over with concentration as he opened himself while Vin looked on. After a moment, he scooped up more of the grease and smoothed it along the length of Vin's hardened flesh. Vin took a deep breath as those knowing fingers teased over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the tip, sending fresh desire coursing through him.

He held his breath as Chris grasped the hard flesh, guiding him towards the self-prepared entrance to his body as Chris lowered himself down onto Vin. Vin let out a ragged breath as he breached the still-tight ring of muscle, eyes unable to move from the handsome face as he read every flinch of pleasure and pain. With a soft whimper, Chris pushed downwards, and Vin had to close his eyes, uncaring of the tears of indescribable pleasure that trickled from the outside corner of his eyes, scalding his cheeks as they fell. All he could feel was the velvet heat of Chris's body wrapped tight around his sensitive flesh, with his senses moving outwards as every nerve ending sang in desire for more. He could feel the sweaty heat of Chris's flesh against his, feel the sodden curls of his pubic hair rubbing against the taut sac... and then Chris rose upwards a few inches, pausing for a moment before pushing back down, impaling himself upon Vin's excited flesh. Muscles clenched around Vin, like a velvet glove milking him with exquisite languor, slowing drawing him towards completion.

Some distant part of his desire-consumed mind registered a sharp cry of pleasure mingled with surprise, with muscles clenching around him tighter still. Soft cries accompanied each downward thrust thereafter, slowly building to a keening wail as Vin's hand began to work Chris's sweat and semen-slicked shaft. Vin shuddered as the most incredibly slow annihilation overtook him, sending his senses spinning into the darkness as he emptied himself into the body poised above him.

When he cracked open an eye, unsure how long he had danced on the edge of ecstasy before coming back down to earth, he felt the comfortable weight of Chris's body half covering his. Only then did he feel a sense of loss from his rapidly cooling body, no longer feeling the heat of Chris pressed around every inch of his now-softened shaft.

"Chris?"

A soft hum answered him and then one eye opened, quickly followed by the other; Vin could read contentment in them. Still, Vin had to ask if Chris was okay, instinctively knowing that Chris had given himself for the first time.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

A contented silence stretched between them, marred only by Vin's need to know why Chris had chosen this time and this place to submit to another man... to him. He leaned up on one elbow and looked down into the softened features, unable to resist a smile to mirror the satisfied one on Chris's face.

"Why now? Why me? Not that I ain't pleased," he added quickly as Chris's brows knitted in a small frown. Chris gave the tiniest grimace, as if mulling over the answer before he sighed softly.

"When Silas had me pinned to the bed, all I had inside me were regrets that it would be him... and not someone who meant something to me." Chris leaned up until he was looking straight at Vin, with their faces only inches apart. "Got enough regrets in my life already. Decided this was one I could fix."

_Someone who meant something to me._

Those words echoed around inside Vin's head, knowing it might easily be the closest he ever got to a declaration of love from this man. Sensing how much his lover needed to sleep; Vin leaned in and kissed the soft lips with gentleness rather than urgency, and then stretched out beside Chris. He closed his eyes and listened as Chris's breathing slowed into sleep, taking comfort in having the warm body curled up by his side.

Tomorrow they would talk about the future but, for tonight, they had all they needed in each other's arms.

****

**Epilogue:**

It was not unusual for two men to share a shack out on the frontier. After all, women were still relatively scarce, though the railroad was changing that rapidly. However, someone or something must have given them away for when Chris went into town for supplies, several months after moving out of the town, he noticed plenty of the townsfolk whispering behind their hands as he walked by. Several of them stared outright, with disapproval written across their faces, while yet others looked away in disgust.

Stepping into Mrs. Potter's general store, Chris ignored the shocked look on one woman's face as she hurried out, leaving her selected goods on the counter as if she could not stand to breath the same air as he. He kept his face devoid of any emotion as he turned to Gloria Potter but the ice melted at her compassionate expression.

"How can I help you , Mr. Larabee?"

Chris gave her a spoken list of items he needed to replenish his and Vin's supplies at the shack, and then he waited as she bustled around, picking items off shelves. She totaled the items as she packed them into a bag, thanking him politely as he handed over the correct amount of money. He could sense she had something to say to him and, truth be told, he knew this would be one occasion when it made sense to wait and listen.

"Mr. Larabee..." She started but paused, as if uncertain how to proceed. "Small towns have small minds. Prejudice runs deep and hard, and though there are plenty here who are grateful for what you and Vin... Mr. Tanner... did for us in the past, there are plenty more new folk who don't know... or who don't care."

"Best you just say it, Mrs. Potter."

She sighed. "Someone is spreading gossip that you and Mr. Tanner are a little too friendly with each other. They said they'd seen you doing unchristian things together."

Chris had no answer to give and determined that he did not need to find one. He'd had a strong feeling that his relationship with Vin would be at the center of those whispers and Gloria Potter's words had confirmed it. He nodded and started to turn away, only to halt after a single pace as she called to him.

"If it's no more than a rumor then you might want to put a stop to it before it gets out of hand." He carried on walking. "And if it's true..." He paused mid-stride, unwilling to turn back to face her. "...then you might want to light out before it turns ugly."

Chris turned at her words and stared at her for a moment, half-expecting to find hostility in her eyes but, instead, seeing no condemnation even though it was plain to see that she knew the truth about them. She knew the rumors held substance but she held enough compassion for him and Vin to put her prejudice aside and warn them instead. He touched the brim of his hat, holding her eyes a little longer than usual, knowing this was more than just a 'good day' but also a 'good bye'.

Chris ignored the stares and whispers as he made his way back to the livery to collect his horse. He found JD and Ezra waiting for him there and knew from the looks on their faces that they felt ill at ease with the rumors persisting around the town. Chris gave a wry smile, knowing Ezra had faced only slightly less prejudice when he took Li Pong for his wife soon after she arrived back in the town, but at least she was female.

"Chris?" JD asked nervously.

"It's okay, JD."

"You mean it's not true?" His eyes lightened but the relief faded when Chris did not return the grin. Ezra placed a hand on JD's arm.

"I believe Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner are planning to move on."

Chris sighed, knowing there was no malice behind Ezra's words for he could see the deep regret in the green eyes. JD looked shocked, having already seen the number of the Seven dwindle as first Nathan and then Buck moved on. Even though Chris and Vin had moved out of the town, they had been no more than an hour's ride away but Chris knew they would have to go much further after this day, if they wanted to remain together.

Chris offered his hand, surprising both men when he reached beyond their hands to a forearm grip, a gesture he had only shared with Vin until recently. He saw the emotion choke JD, and even Ezra, with both knowing this was a final parting in this town.

"You will send my highest regards to Mr. Tanner?" Chris nodded and started to turn away but Ezra had not yet finished. "And word of your whereabouts? I, for one, would welcome any future correspondence and a chance to renew our acquaintance at a more fortuitous time and place."

Chris smiled at seeing the sincerity in Ezra's eyes. Once more, he nodded, and then he mounted up and rode out without a backward glance despite the urge to take one last look at the town he had almost called home for a time. However, he had plenty of arrangements to make now, concerning the land and the small shack, knowing he and Vin could not stay there any longer without fear of persecution.

He laughed derisively as he rode towards the home he had made with Vin. If it had been marauding Indians, Comancheros or even land jumpers like Royal and James, then he and Vin could have stood their ground and fought for the land. But fighting against the laws of the so-called decent Christian white folk was a battle they could not win. It was a battle that would end up with both of them hanged... or far worse.

Within half a day, he had packed all their belongings into Vin's wagon. He put their two extra horses into harness, tied his gelding securely to the back, and then moved off.

Chris stopped halfway across the wide clearing and looked back at the small shack that he had only started to call home after Vin came to share its bed with him. Then he realized it was Vin who made it a home, not the wooden planks, slates and fixtures, and while Vin remained by his side he would always have a home. With a final glance, just to fix firmly in his mind the memories they had made together in that shack, Chris turned away and urged the horses onwards.

Vin had headed out to Vista City with Josiah a week back and Chris set his sights along that track, knowing he would meet his lover on the way.

As he crested the third hill, he felt his heart skip a beat in recognition of the buckskin-clad rider on a dark horse with a long flash of white on its nose, riding with a big man on a sorrel. He snapped the reins, making the horses pick up the pace as he urged them onwards, watching as the dark horse pulled away towards him at a canter while the sorrel remained at the slower pace.

"Howdy, Cowboy."

Chris answered Vin's grin with one of his own. "Who are you calling a cowboy?" he replied good-naturedly and watched as Vin's eyes flitted to the wagon, filled with all their possessions, and he saw the grin fade.

"You just taking everything out for some fresh air... or have we been run out of town?"

Chris looked across as Josiah reached them. "There have been rumors in town, so I figured it was better to leave now, before they formed a lynch mob and came riding out after us."

Josiah leaned over in his saddle, his face a mask of sadness as he shook his head in dismay, while Vin rubbed his own neck in subconscious fear of the hangman's noose.

"Hell... we always knew this could happen, Chris."

They had talked about this several times, deciding it would be better to move on if word of their 'unnatural' relationship ever made it into town. Any attempt to deny the existence of it would have meant separating, and neither man wanted to move on alone.

The hardest part was figuring out when and where they had been indiscrete especially as Vin had been away for a week, and that kind of rumor did not swell slowly through a town; it spread like wildfire. It meant someone had held the knowledge secret until only a day back, so it was unlikely that one of Stuart James' or Guy Royal's men had spotted them else the first they would have heard about it would have been when the mob arrived at the shack, eager to assist them on their way to Hell.

Chris looked to Josiah, knowing it really did not matter who had seen them -- and betrayed them. All that truly mattered was getting away together, safely.

"Got some papers I'd like delivered in town, if you don't mind taking them, Josiah."

"Be my pleasure, Chris... on one condition." Chris narrowed his eyes and waited. "Wasn't planning on staying much longer in town now they've got a new preacher."

Chris smiled. "You're welcome to ride along with us, Josiah, for as long as you want."

Josiah looked to Vin and saw equal welcome there. "Then I'll meet you boys at the Seminole Village. Might as well avail ourselves of Tastanagi's hospitality one last time, and say our 'good byes' to Nathan."

"Might as well."

Chris handed over the letters and they parted company. They watched until Josiah had moved out of sight and then Vin drew close, leaning on the pommel, with a wry grin twisting his lips.

"Didn't figure on us having to leave so soon. Thought we'd be all right that far out of town for at least a year or two."

Chris reached out and covered the hands on the pommel with his. "Ain't worried. Only part I hated leaving behind was JD and Ezra. The shack don't matter to me much, in fact, one of those letters gives the land to JD. Figure he and Casey might need a place to raise a family."

"They got Nettie's place."

"Hell, Vin, you know that old lady'll still be around when JD's kids have kids."

They grinned in unison, and Chris focused on the soft lips that he longed to suck and kiss, knowing the eager reunion of flesh would have to wait until they camped for the night, as long as they had a modicum of privacy. Vin straightened up and looked to the horizon, away from the town and towards where the Seminole Village lay.

"Best get moving if we want to be there before dark, else Tastanagi might not recognize who we are an' shoot at us with that cannon."

"That he might," grinned Chris. He slapped down the reins and gave a shout that set the horse moving, with Vin falling in step beside the wagon, once more riding by his side.

Slowly, they rolled onwards towards a new future that would always be filled with love but, hopefully, without any more prejudice.

THE END


End file.
